


my moon (my pretty little loon)

by xuming8



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: AU, Almost everyone is a ghost, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Past life, Pining, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, blowjob, jun is a ghost, loosely inspired by hotel del luna, minghao runs hotel for ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuming8/pseuds/xuming8
Summary: xu minghao runs a hotel for ghosts, stuck in the realm where time and existence cease to exist. imprisoned by his own mistake, he is bound to the soul tree, preventing his journey to the afterlife. the aloof wine loving owner enjoys his gaudy lifestyle and then enter— moon junhui.with junhui, comes love.with love, comes minghao’s greatest fear– the blooming of the soul tree.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 38
Kudos: 166





	1. Marigold; grief

Junhui fixes his gaze on Wonwoo as he walks through the empty roads of the city, slightly jogging to catch up next to Wonwoo and matching his footsteps with the boy’s usual slow and steady ones. He balls his hands into fists and stuffs them into the pockets of his varsity jacket, continuing to follow Wonwoo. Said boy exhales a few puffs of air from his mouth, and judging from the visible smoke circulating the air, Junhui supposes it’s a cold night tonight. His face contorts into a frown at the boy’s choice of light clothing, and he wishes he could drape his jacket over Wonwoo’s skinny frame, not that he needs the extra article of clothing anyway. 

Only he can’t. 

He continues to follow Wonwoo until his light footsteps come to a halt in front of a pretty old and rundown building situated in the end of the road. Wonwoo heads down for the staircase with rusty railings which reek of acrid iron. In the basement is one apartment lot with metal door, and Junhui quietly slides in, when Wonwoo closes the door. Wonwoo kicks off his Vans, and hangs his thin coat on the rack. 

Exchange of soft and hushed whispers among two people coming from the living room of the eccentric apartment invades Junhui’s hearing. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings– the house is poorly lit in dim lighting, as the only source of lighting comes from an old fluorescent lamp that looks like it has lived through at least a decade. The peeled off walls have suspicious yellow tinge, and also reek of old cigarette smoke. As Junhui’s gaze falls on the floor, he notices the colourful fan scattered around on the wooden floor, the various prayer items to the paintings and the lone candle in the middle of the main hall. 

An old man comes to greet Wonwoo with a tight lipped smile as he bends and leans over to light up another candle with a matchstick. A lady dressed in multicoloured hanbok strides into the room, almost bumping into Junhui in the process.

Junhui shifts uncomfortably, and watches in curiosity as the trio settle down into a circle around the lit candles, the warm glow of the candles illuminating their faces. The strange lady takes a hold of Wonwoo’s right wrist, and her other hand holds on to what Junhui thinks is a mudang bell. 

Junhui grits his teeth in pure annoyance when it finally occurs to him what this entire ordeal is about. 

A seance.

A way to communicate with the dead.

He really wishes he could flick Wonwoo’s forehead. 

“Do tell me your name, young man.” The lady speaks in her gravelly voice, eyes rolling backwards into her skull as the mudang bell rattles in her grip. 

“W-Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.” Wonwoo replies nervously, eyes flickering around the hall that looks like it came out straight off a horror movie set. 

“Tell me who you’re looking for.”

“Moon Junhui.” Wonwoo bites his lips as the name rolls off his tongue. 

The lady nods momentarily, shaking the mudang bell aggressively before her body goes into a series of violent convulsions, her shoulders shaking, and spit dribbles down the sides of her chin. Junhui cringes at the sight that he is witnessing, it certainly is not a pretty picture. 

Then, she grasps Wonwoo’s hand with an increased force, earning a yelp in response from the boy, “I can allow you to talk to him for one minute and one minute only, then it’s over.” She speaks, and then her voice drops an octave lower before she speaks out again, “Wonwoo? Is that you?” 

Wonwoo’s eyes light up as he shakes the lady’s hand in excitement, “Junnie? Yes, it’s me,” Junhui briefly looks away when he sees the tears forming in the corner of Wonwoo’s eyes. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m alright,” the lady trails off, a broken half smile plastered on her mouth, “But...”

“But?” Wonwoo probes further, a genuine alarm in his tone. 

Junhui walks forward from the shadows, and he squats down to watch the exchange of words from the duo. He rests his chin on his palm, staring unfazed at the lady who is obviously a scammer and sighs deeply at Wonwoo who would obviously fall for things like this.

“It hurts so much here. My whole body burns— oh no, I have to go Wonwoo, they, they’re comi—“ 

“Junnie? Junhui! What hap—“ 

The lady suddenly regains her consciousness, her eyes get sharp as she stares at Wonwoo before returning to the gravelly voice, “He’s gone.”

“Couldn’t you—“ 

She shakes her head, “I may be from a great family of shamans, but there are rules from the other world that I have to comply with,” she holds out the palm of her hand, “That would be 50,000 won.” 

Wonwoo gives the lady a blank stare, before nodding his head in defeat and pulling out his wallet to put crisp bills on the lady’s hand. He thanks the two of them before slipping on his Vans back on and grabbing his coat and walking in the cold again. 

Junhui gets up quickly and follows him, shouting strings of curses in Mandarin and Korean at him for still being a gullible idiot despite his impressive academic records imply. He’s so mad at Wonwoo for blowing away his weekly budget on a shaman service when he realises that Wonwoo’s Vans stop squeaking against the road and come to a stop at a familiar place. 

He sees the huge cross sign twinkling in the night sky. 

He sees the statue of Virgin Mary welcoming him. 

The church. 

Junhui falls into a silence when he recognises the familiar church, as he drinks in the washed out tiles, and a flare of nostalgia washes over his eyes. 

This is the church they used to go to together, back when Junhui would scold Wonwoo for waking up late for a Sunday service. 

Wonwoo hasn’t been back in a while, ever since—

Wonwoo shakes his head, and braves a step into the church. 

His adam’s apple bobs in nervousness as he pushes the giant wooden door and walks near the altar. He picks out a candle from the basket at the side, takes the lighter to light it up, and sets the candle on the altar. He then brings his right hand to touch his forehead and the center of his chest, “In the name of the Father,” he reaches over to touch his left shoulder, “the Son,” and finally— he touches his right shoulder, “and the Holy Spirit, Amen.” 

Wonwoo closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, “Father, how is my beloved doing?” He whispers. “Is he doing okay in your kingdom? I truly hope he is. I’m sorry I haven’t came down here for a long time, but tonight I have finally collected enough strength to come here.” He pauses, swallowing a ragged breath. 

“When you took him away from me, I have never understood why, I still don’t.” He hesitates, “I still haven’t found the answer. My knees were burning hot, but You were cold.” He pauses again, and Junhui can see the tears breaking free from its dam and Junhui would sell his soul to the devil to be able to wipe it away with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I hope he’s happy up there with You, and if he’s still wandering, then please guide him home.” 

Wonwoo ends his prayer with another cross, and Junhui feels his throat constricting, the saliva has gone dry in his mouth and he backs away from Wonwoo and the altar before he can hear the pitiful sobs that are racking Wonwoo’s body. 

He runs towards the entrance of the church and sits down on one of the benches, recalling the events from the fateful day. He breathes a sigh of relief once he knows he’s far enough from Wonwoo. 

He cannot deal with this. 

No. 

Not right now. 

“You know that person?” 

The sudden voice sends Junhui’s whole body into a startled jump, he whirls his head around to search for the source of the sound. His gaze falls upon a boy who appears to be around his age range, if not younger, rocking blonde hair and he’s leaning against the pillar as he twists the strings of his tie dyed hoodie absentmindedly. 

He looks up at Junhui, and Junhui returns the same favour, eyes full of fascination. 

“You. You can see me?” He breathes out unbelievably. 

“Mhm hm.” the boy replies, looking unamused as he walks towards Junhui. He holds out his hand, and when Junhui reaches out to touch it, his very own hand doesn’t go through it like it usually does when he tried to touch the strangers on the streets. His eyes widen in surprise. 

“I’m Vernon. Some might call me Hansol. Whichever you want to call me.” 

“Junhui. How come yo-“ 

“I’m just like you, buddy.” Vernon replies, his mouth finally breaking into a small welcoming smile, broadcasting the top row of his teeth. 

Junhui scratches the back of his head nervously. He has never encountered anyone who seems to acknowledge his presence, and this Vernon guy claims that he is Junhui’s kind. 

Hell, he even thought he was the only one.

A ghost. 

A lost spirit who is stuck in the between, not knowing where to go. 

A whisper of what he used to be.

He isn’t sure what kind of label he should stick with. 

All he knows is he’s walking through streets and watching others live life day and night while his very own stopped a year ago.

But now he has finally met somebody of his kind, he feels a surge of relief as he babbles, “Are there any others of our kind?” 

Vernon nods slowly, “Tons, actually,” Before opening his mouth to continue, “You can come with me if you’d like to meet them.” 

Screw stranger danger. 

His mum would’ve been beyond horrified if she knows that Junhui would be willing to take up a stranger’s offer of going to a place. Hansol could be a total scam and he wouldn’t know. 

He’s dead anyway. 

What else could he risk losing?

//

Vernon brings Junhui to another dingy old building a few blocks away from the church. He squints in skepticism as he reads an LED sign that is covered in vines which spells out ‘8BAR’. 

He has never seen this building before, despite the countless walks he’s taken on this path during his lifetime. All he remembers is a tall gate with a sign that reads ‘NO ENTRY’. He didn’t seem to recall seeing the bright LED light. 

He shrugs off the skepticism as he follows Vernon into the building. When Vernon pushes the door open, a bell chimes and they are met with a guy whose smile rivals that of a sun waiting at the concierge. He jumps out of his desk to greet Vernon. 

“Sollie! You’re bac— oh, you brought a friend with you?” He chirps happily and realises that Vernon is indeed not alone. “Yep. This is Junhui. He has been wandering around for quite some time now, figured I’d take him here,” Vernon replies, “This is Seokmin. He takes care of the registration process here at 8BAR.” 

“How long have you been dead for?” Seokmin asks brightly, as if asking someone how long they have been dead for is a completely normal thing to do. 

Junhui winces at the unfamiliar use of the word dead, “A year, I presume.” 

Seokmin gasps audibly, bringing up his hand to cover his gaping mouth, “Oh dear, poor you. How did you spend so long wandering on your own?” 

Junhui shrugs his shoulders, “Rolled down the streets. Days turned to months, a year, and then bam, here I am.” 

“It’s alright,” Seokmin takes both of Junhui’s hands before smiling so bright his eyes turn into crescents, “You’re going to be safe here.” He then turns to Vernon, “Sollie, do you mind taking Junhui to the lobby? I have to inform the boss of our new guest. I’ll be joining you and the others shortly after.” 

Vernon nods lazily, “No biggie. Junhui, come this way.” He gestures to the lift at the opposite end of the concierge. Junhui still has his suspicions when he steps into the lift and Vernon presses one of the two buttons there. The door closes and the lift begins to rise. The ride is smooth and quiet until Junhui breaks it. 

“I’m sorry for being uncultured but, what is this 8BAR place?” 

“A hotel, for the dead like us. It’s a place where all dead people come to get a good long rest before they board the bus to afterlife.” 

Junhui takes a moment to absorb the information. If an afterlife indeed exists, then why is he stuck in the between?

“Some of us stay here for a long time before we board the bus to afterlife,” Vernon answers the unasked question. “Maybe you have something you haven’t done yet, or someone you need to take care of. When you’re satisfied with those, you can then leave to the afterlife. Until then, your time here is indefinite.”

After what seems like forever, the door to the lift finally opens to reveal a gorgeous hotel lobby. Junhui’s jaw hangs open at the decadent beauty that could easily be mistaken for a five-star hotel in Gangnam despite the exterior looking like an abandoned building that junkies would absolutely adore. 

Pillars that are coloured in black and gold support the high mirrored ceiling where Junhui can see himself admiring the shining chandelier made of diamonds. Shards of lights bounce across the marbled floors and over the framed paintings decorating the cool red walls which seem to complement the lavish sofas and low tables set out for the guests. 

Soft music echoes from the speakers, and everyone has some sort of glass filled with concoction in their hands, chatting and mingling happily with one and another. 

Everything looks very lively. 

Except they aren’t. 

They are dead. 

Vernon pulls Junhui to one of the couches where two people whom Vernon claims are his friends sat, a really bubbly guy introduces himself as Seungkwan, and another one who appears to be the youngest as Chan. 

Chan claps his hand on his back and pats the space on the sofa next to him, signaling for Junhui to sit there. 

“So,” Chan starts, pushing a glass of champagne towards Junhui, “What’s your story? Are you new?” 

Junhui assumes that by new he meant the date of death, so he shakes his head. 

“Car crash. I’ve been around for a year,” He  
traces the long scar on his chest unknowingly. 

All the boys gape at him, except for Vernon, who merely downs another shot before calling over one of the staffs to refill his drink. 

“So that...” Seungkwan points at the Y shaped incision scar that is poking out from Junhui shirt slightly. Junhui nods in acknowledgment, “Yeah, they performed an autopsy on me because of law or some shit. They said if you die outside of your home, they have to open up your body in case of foul play.” 

“That’s some hardcore nasty stuff, man.” Chan frowns, “Well, my foster dad wasn’t a good man. He beat up my younger brother, and I was fucking livid. I went up to smash his face with a baseball bat, but fucker apparently had a gun with him,” He makes a gun with his middle and index fingers, and points it to the side of his head, “So here I am.” 

Junhui can’t quite decipher as to how Chan can be all cheery while telling the details of his death, “That bastard is serving jail time now. And I’m here because I’m still worried about my brother, I’ve never really learnt how to let go.” His gaze softens, swirling the glass in his hand. 

Seungkwan clears his throat, “Me and Vernon here,” he grabs Vernon’s left arm and leans his head on his shoulder affectionately, “We went to chemo together,” he’s brandishing their hands that have intense violet bruises from countless intravenous infusion, “I passed first, then Sollie did too a couple of hours later. I waited for him in front of the hospital and we went here together.” 

“We’re still here because we want to be a normal couple for once. Vernon couldn’t even laugh at my jokes because he was always hooked up to the stupid oxygen tank and the metastasis in his lungs, stupid fucking cancer.” 

“Sharing beds was cute at first, but got lame real quick. Seungkwan was always forced to wear a mask because his immune system was shit.” 

“So yeah, we’d like to try everything normal couples do, before we head to the afterlife together.” 

By now, Chan is making strange gagging noises when Vernon completely comes out of his indifferent cocoon as he shyly plants a chaste kiss on top of Seungkwan’s head. 

Junhui tilts his head, he feels more light-headed than before. He isn’t sure if it’s the champagne’s doing or he’s just glad to finally have some friends. 

“Who owns this hotel anyway? A deity?” Junhui asks, as he takes another glance at the hotel’s luxurious decoration. It must cost a fortune for the maintenance alone. Some sort of magical force must be responsible for it. 

“You could say that? Although the owner’s name is Xu Minghao. Although I would rather call him W.S. because that’s basically what he is, walking sex.” Chan replies dreamily, staring into the distance and letting out a content sigh. 

“Man? Man as in an alive human runs this hotel?”

Junhui’s question catches the three off guard as they exchange a look that Junhui can’t quite decode. 

“He’s not alive, no. But I wouldn’t say he’s dead either.” 

The answer leaves Junhui knitting his eyebrows together. 

Alive. 

But not really. 

Dead. 

But not really. 

“What is he?” 

“He’s 1300 years old, I think? The second oldest person in this hotel, Jihoonie hyung, said that the only reason why Minghao has been around for a long time is because he did something really bad,” Seungkwan hugs his body with his arms, before gesturing to Hansol to continue with the story, “Therefore Seungcheol, the deity, punished him by binding him to the Soul Tree.” 

“You don’t want to get on his nerve, really. Even Jeonghan the grim reaper doesn’t dare to lay a finger on him,” Chan nods at the truth that Vernon’s words carry, “He’s really that bad.” 

“I remember him telling some of the guests here to fuck off when they angered him. You could be the nation’s crown prince and he would not bat an eye.” 

Just when Junhui wants to open his mouth to intercept, a curt voice interrupts him. 

“What do we have here? My dear guests discussing about me?”

Chan almost choked on his drink. 

Seungkwan looks like he’s about to encounter death the second time. 

Vernon’s fair complexion turns abnormally fairer, as if all the nonexistent blood has just been drained off his circulation system. 

When Junhui spins his body to see what is it that scared them, his eyes catch a glimpse of a man standing by the foot of the spiral staircase. 

Ethereal is the night sky, as ethereal is Xu Minghao. His voice soft and velvety and addictive like candy, his skin irresistible with all the lights hitting all the right angles. 

Gold immediately catches Junhui’s eyes. The irises of the man’s eyes are golden, cold and clear. 

He is dressed in a simple white button down. It is loose, probably two sizes bigger than himself, making him appear much slimmer than he already is. 

His hair is raven, just like the skies of the night outside of the colossal window in the lobby of the hotel. 

On the tip of his nose rests a thin wire glasses, from which his sharp eyes are peeking through at the four of them. 

“What am I, you asked?” 

He shifts his bored gaze to the full moon shining brightly outside. 

“I am Xu Minghao, stuck in the realm where time and existence cease to exist. More or less, I’m imprisoned by my own mistake.” 

He proceeds to give Junhui a smile, one that lacks mirth, one that sends shivers down his spine. 

His voice is cold and curt, not anywhere near to being warm. His gaze is intense, and Junhui cannot find any windows to peek through. 

He should be feeling like somebody had poured a bucket of cold water when he stares at Minghao, but he holds his gaze steady, and feels his non-alive heart thumping loudly. 

“If I were the three of you, I would be working hard to upgrade from a bus to limousine to the afterlife,” Minghao’s gaze shifts from Junhui to the three boys who are by now looking a deer caught in the headlights. “Certainly bad mouthing the owner behind his back isn’t the way to go.” 

Chan swallows thickly, scrambling around to find the words and just before his opens his mouth, Minghao puts up his hand. “My dearest guests, why don’t you enjoy the rest of the day at the beach while I take care of our newest guest here?” 

The trio doesn’t need to be told twice before quickly springing on their feet, taking their drinks with them and shuffling out of the lounge speedily, leaving Junhui alone with the man. 

“Mr. Moon Junhui?” 

The hotel owner’s quiet voice snaps Junhui back into reality. He spins his body to finally look at the man’s golden irises properly, and he nods at the mention of his name. “Junhui, yeah. Jun works too, if you’d prefer that.” He mumbles the last part hesitantly. 

Minghao raises his dark straight eyebrow and shrugs, “Mr. Moon Junhui, please come this way to my office.” 

Junhui flinches audibly at the request. He tries to rack his brain at what he had done wrong for Minghao to invite Junhui into his office. He had just finally start making friends after a long fucking year of being alone and he’s getting kicked out of a hotel that’s for the dead— for god’s sake. 

Minghao seems to notice the tense in Junhui’s shoulders and he rolls his eyes as if he’s reading Junhui’s state of mind, “We have to discuss the terms of your stay. I’m not going to harm you.”

///

Minghao’s office is a beautiful, spacious hobby, Junhui finds out. Like the lobby, the floors were marble and the walls a lovely shade of wine red. Two comfortable chaises were set up towards the right of the room atop a soft fur rug, and heavy drapes hung on either side of the room's tall arched windows, framing the huge mahogany desk directly opposite the doors.

The said owner sits behind it in a quality leather chair with his hands busy flipping through the papers in a file. Junhui continues to examine the wall behind Minghao’s desk, which houses numerous frames photographs of the hotel owner himself. The pictures looked as if they had been taken over multiple centuries, and in each one, Minghao was standing before 8BAR dressed in era-centric garb dating as far back as the black and white age of the 1800's. Every image of him before that century was a painting or sketch, the oldest being a wood-block print that depicted him in a hanbok Junhui had only seen in historical dramas. 

A few beats later, Minghao clears his throat as he shuffles the paper. “You were a decent person in your lifetime. You should be able to ride the bus to the afterlife,” he says monotonously. “Is there any specific requests that we could cater for you?” 

Minghao speaks again. “It could be anything that you didn’t get to do in your lifetime. We can fulfil your request.” 

Junhui beams at his statement as he remembers how much he had loved singing, but never got the chance to fully indulge in the hobby because life got in the way. Accounting paid the bills, singing would have never. Eventually the dream got buried under the adult responsibilities that he bared on his skin. 

“I would appreciate a recording studio.” Junhui says shyly, wringing his fingers together. 

The owner says nothing but nods his head and writes down in his clipboard, “Very well. Now that’s settled and Seokmin will be bringing you to your room.” 

Junhui mumbles a thank you under his breath and gets up to leave when Minghao’s voice fills the air again. 

“One more thing, I’m not as bad they’d told you. Don’t be afraid to ask for my assistance if you need it.” 

When Junhui looks back to give him a deep bow of another thank you, the owner is flashing a small smile at him which resulted in wild flips in his stomach. 

And for that brief moment, Junhui is kind of glad he’s dead.


	2. Chamomile; happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> junhui learns the art of letting go. 
> 
> minghao’s cooled frigid heart is still missing somebody.

_Crashing against the shore, small salty waves wash the night’s debris onto the land. A man sits alone, he’s barefoot as the cool water laps at his feet, fizzing and bubbling like a brine. The man looks dreamily out to the vast sea in front of his shelter of a secluded cave surrounded by rocks._

_ A loyal companion of sword rests close by his right side. He takes another swig out of the flask that is held between the palm of his chaffed hand before looking up at the night sky again. A smile blossoms on his lips as the sweet, yet robust liquid dances around on his tongue and down his throat.  _

_ Midway taking another sip of the alcoholic concoction, the man hears light footsteps rustling among the dead leaves and fine sand. Carefully, he sets down the wooden flask and silently picks up his sword in his right hand.  _

_ “Seo Myungho.”  _

_Myungho releases the tense in his shoulders,completely lets his guard down when he hears the familiar voice calling out his name, lowering his sword to the ground and twisting_ _his chapped lips into a crooked smile._

_ The man before him is dressed in a blue gonryongpo. On his left shoulder is an embroidery of four dragon’s toes, giving away his status, the nation’s beloved crown prince.  _

_ “Kim Mingyu.”  _

_ The name slides off his tongue so easily.  _

_So easily that it should feel wrong. _

_  
_

_The man before him is dressed in a blue gonryongpo. On his left shoulder is an embroidery of four dragon’s toes, giving away his status, the nation’s beloved crown prince._

_A lowly bandit like himself should not even dream to be allowed to stand straight when he encounters_ _the people from the palace, Myungho should be worshipping the ground that the crown prince walks on. Calling the crown prince by his name should is a deadly sin of blasphemy, and by right, he could have his head chopped off._

_But the crown prince smiles warmly, surging forward to cup the man’s face in his hands._

_Underneath the moonlight, the crown prince sees Myungho’s features clearly. He sees Myungho’s ash hued skin, runs the pad of his thumb over the little angry red scars tainting Myungho’s cheeks, and then he proceeds to tread his fingers through Myungho’s wild and unkempt long mane._

_The crown prince leans in, so his forehead rests against Myungho. They close their eyes, both their breaths are shaking._

_“I’ve missed you,” he says in a voice barely more than a whisper._

_“So have I, Your Highness.” Myungho replies, his voice low and husky._

_“Tonight you shall accompany me.” Prince Mingyu’s voice commands, as he gently leans in, keeping their hands linked together, and kisses Myungho’s chapped, alcohol flavoured lips._

_They don’t fit, they shouldn’t fit, by default._

_While Myungho is a thief, traveling from villages to villages to scavenge for valuables from other commoners’ homes so that he would have enough in his stomach to sustain himself and stay alive for one more day._

_Kim Mingyu is the crown prince, prim and proper, untainted and pristine, pure and unblemished. Prince Mingyu will never experience the horrors Myungho has to live with daily even in his wildest nightmares._

_It reminds Myungho of how innocent the crown prince can be at times, even though he’s next in line to rule the country._

_How naive._

_How protected and childlike he is still able to be even when the fate of the nation lies in his hands._

_And that attracts Myungho._

_Maybe it’s the darkness inside Myungho that desires so desperately to love the light bits inside Prince Mingyu._

_Mingyu escapes his chamber when his eunuch is dozed off outside his door, when the royal guards are drunk off the alcohol he’d bribed them with, he escapes into the darkness of the night._

_He walks and walks through the thick forest, until his eyesight catches a secluded beach and a lonely lanky figure faithfully waiting for him by a cave._

_“Whose alcohol did you steal this time?” Mingyu jokes, feeling around the sleeves of Myungho’s shabby and torn clothes to find his calloused fingers and interlocking them with his._

_“A faraway thief, I suppose. All I had to do was raise my sword, and the bastard ran off, leaving his belongings behind.” He answers, head tilting to the direction of the worn out sack full of supplies he had acquired earlier that would be enough to last him a week in the cave._

_A laughter bubbles up in Mingyu’s throat, and when he lets it loose, faded shade of red paints Myungho’s cheeks. He hopes the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks would be enough to hide it._

_Mingyu reaches for Minghao’s flask, and inspects the container under the moonlight. He sees something being engraved on the surface of the wooden flask._

_∞_

_A circle being connected to another circle._

_“What is this?”_

_“A symbol to show that it belongs to me. So that no one else can steal it, or if it goes missing I can always find it back.”_

_“Come,” Mingyu wraps Myungho’s hand in his, guiding it to the moist sand beneath their feet and making strokes and boxes in it with his index finger that Myungho is not able to read._

_ 徐明浩 _

_“This, is how you write your name, Seo Myungho. I taught you this, so you have to remember it well, yes?”_

_ Myungho nods fervently, feeling feverish from the crown prince’s touch that lingers on his skin. From this distance, he breathes in the crown prince’s addicting scent of chamomiles .  He turns to look at the tall crown prince who’s looking up, mesmerising the moon. _

_Myungho has never once resented his fate— for being born an orphan in a small hut by the mountain, for slaving his bones away for the noblemen just to get a sack of rice, for being forced to live the low life of a bandit— he has never resented those, but when he sits beside the beautiful Prince Mingyu, he wishes he was somebody._

_A nobleman._

_Somebody worthy of standing next to prince, but he’s a nobody, an outcast, and that brings shame crawling under his skin._

_Greed is an ugly thing._

_“Seo Myungho,” the crown prince bursts Myungho’s trail of thoughts, calling his name out softly. “The palace is searching for a gisaeng, and I recall you quite enjoy the jeongjae?”_

_A flash of red colours Myungho’s cheeks again, at the mention of the crown prince remembering the only thing he finds joy in doing— the royal court dance. “Yes, Your Highness.”_

_“Attend the search for gisaeng, Seo Myungho. When the winter solstice arrives, I shall be expecting you to attend it.”_

The voices are getting further and further away, morphing into a jumble of incoherent white noise as the vision starts to disperse in blurs and then pitch black. 

Junhui wakes up suddenly, every thought in high definition. His eyes shoot open, taking in the engraved high white ceiling above him. Rubbing the remnants of sleep out of his eyes, he tries to recall his current location. 

This isn’t the usual bench in the playground that always he sleeps on when the night unfolds. 

This is a king-sized bed with pure white, Egyptian cotton sheet underneath the weight of his body, and moonlight shines through the sheer curtains that covers the glass window which stretches from one end of the wall to another. 

Junhui remembers following Wonwoo to the church. 

Junhui remembers meeting Vernon. 

Junhui remembers 8BAR. 

Junhui remembers seeing a pair golden eyes before Seokmin took him to his room and wished him a goodnight. 

Then he remembers the man with golden irises staring right back at him and the unsettling dream that he had just woken up from. 

Junhui sits up straight, back resting against the headboard of the soft King sized bed and begins processing the things that he had seen a while ago. 

One of the men in his dream, the one with messy unkempt long hair, he thinks he recognizes the figure and the shape of the eyes. 

Tall, lean, and thin, just like the owner of the hotel. 

“But he was called Seo Myungho.” Junhui recalls, muttering to himself.

Junhui crosses his arms behind the back of his head, staring in blankness at the white ceiling as he forces his brain cells to put together a mental image of the disintegrating features of the other man who was sitting by Minghao. 

The man wore clothes that Junhui had only ever seen in his history textbooks and historical dramas. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to remember what the exchange of words were. 

Sighing at his failure, Junhui pushes away the covers and gets out of bed. His steps guide him to the window. The moonlight is still shining brightly outside, indicating that the dawn hasn’t cracked just yet. A few raindrops start hitting on the windowpane, then many more, and in the span of 30 seconds, it starts raining cats and dogs. 

He thinks of the rain and he thinks of Wonwoo. 

He thinks of the rain and he thinks of the car crash. 

Wonwoo loves the rain too, or at least he used to until one rainy night that would change his life forever. 

That fateful day, Wonwoo was standing in front of their bedroom window, deep in some faraway thoughts as he stared out at the raindrops crashing onto the pavement. 

Lost in some daydream, Wonwoo had only one arm inside the left sleeve of the pastel yellow shirt. Junhui smiled at the faded cotton button down, reminded of the fact that it was the first article of clothing he had ever bought for Wonwoo. 

He was just a college freshman then, and it was only when he went on a sodium packed diet for five weeks that he was able to afford the piece of clothing for Wonwoo. It was worthy of surviving off canned food and instant noodles to see the blinding smile on Wonwoo’s face when he took a look inside the H&M shopping bag. 

“Morning, Wonwoo.” Junhui whispered as his toned arms formed a possessive circle around his boyfriend. Wonwoo leaned back into Junhui’s embrace, and he turned around to capture Junhui’s lips in a lingering kiss. 

They stood together by the glass, Junhui’s arms draped around Wonwoo’s waist again, chin resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder as Mother nature bathed the world outside their window. 

Had junhui known that would be the last time he would be seeing Wonwoo, alive in his skin, he would’ve told him how much he loved him. 

He would’ve stayed at home. 

But he didn’t. 

It rained later that night, when he lost control of his steering wheel, and his car skidded to the right side of the highway. 

He saw the oncoming 16 wheeler on his right, he remembers feeling an immense pain in his chest. He remembers when the paramedics came and called his name and putting pressure on his chest. 

Then he remembers coughing up blood, and the rainy sky before he closed his eyes for the last time. 

There is still a window and a world outside, but there’s no vanilla scented raven hair teasing his senses and no warm, male body in his arms. 

There is only the rain, the gnawing emptiness in his chest, and the remembrance of how he died. 

Shrugging off the painful memories, Junhui mutters to himself, “I should take a walk.” 

He opens the door and steps out into a long, ornate corridor, decorated by flower arrangements which sit on white pillars on either side to match the blue painted walls. 

Junhui walks towards the white and gold double doors at the end of the corridor which then takes him to the second floor of the hotel, which overlooks the beautiful lobby. 

The lobby was bustling and full of guests a couple of hours ago, but now it’s empty, only traces of dust particles are floating around in the air. 

Just when Junhui thought he’s all by himself, he hears an echo of a set of footsteps approaching him from the corridor.With a bright smile, Junhui spins his body around to greet them. 

It starts with a slight shimmer, as if the air in front of Junhui is twisted and warped. Then, in flash of pale, silvery light, a man appears before his eyes. Dressed in a crisp, white button down, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tucked underneath a plain black vest with matching pants. 

He’s muttering something under his breath that Junhui cannot quite catch, and then the whisper becomes an eerie rasping voice, moaning and groaning. 

Junhui’s eyes grow into the size of saucers when he sees the ragged line across the man’s neck and his gaunt soulless eyes. 

He lets out a scream of terror when blotches of crimson appear on the man’s crisp white shirt and dripping down onto the pristine marbled floors. His soulless eyes stare right into Junhui’s widened ones as he takes another step forward, leaving a trail of blood behind. 

Junhui’s fight or flight instinct tells him there is no other way to escape, so takes a few steps back until his back touches the banister. He backs up some more and grips on the railing until his knuckles turn white, “I don’t even know why I’m afraid of you— I’m dead for fuck’s sake!” 

He shouts, but to no avail as the vengeful man—ghost cracks a sinister smile. 

When Junhui tries to take another step backward, he feels the iron railing giving way—it bends lower and lower and he had only enough time to scream “fuck!” when everything happened. 

One second he is on the first floor of the lobby, and next, the banister snaps loudly and the marble floor is rushing up to meet him. 

Junhui braces himself for the fall, he feels the wind around him and he feels everything disappear in that span of a moment. 

Something warm and solid catches him. 

No deity, no universe. 

When he opens his eyes again, he sees a pair of golden eyes and black, he sees the beauty mark under the eye, and he sees the scar on the man’s eyebrow. 

_No deity, no universe_ , just Xu Minghao’s body around him.

They fall that way, with Minghao’s body a shield protecting Junhui from harm. 

They hit the marble floor with a thump, Minghao’s body absorbing most of the impact. Junhui reacts immediately and pulls back to see if the man beneath him is alright. 

“Oh my gosh! Are you two alright?” A voice calls from the first floor. When Junhui looks that direction, he sees Seokmin waving from the section of which the banister had snapped off. There is another man by his side, and the ghost from earlier. 

“We are! Although I don’t know if it was supposed to hurt since I’m a ghost and all...” Junhui replies, muttering the second part of his reply to himself. 

“You can still get hurt.”

Junhui swiftly turns to face Minghao who is slowly standing up from the floor, brushing away at his sleeves and pants before looking up to meet Junhui’s eyes, “When a human hurts you, you will feel no pain. But when a ghost does, you can get hurt. As with all the things in 8BAR. 

The taller’s mouth forms into a small ‘o’ albeit Junhui feels a little embarrassed, having somebody whose stature is quite small as compared to him saving him. 

“Aigoo, Junhui are you okay?” Seokmin shouts in concern as he goes down the spiral staircase hurriedly, almost missing some of the steps. “Are yo—“ He stops in his track, putting a hand over his agape mouth when he sees a part of the banister on the floor.

“—we’ve had guests breaking glasses in our hotel but we’ve never had—“ Seokmin pauses, stifling a laughter, “—someone breaking things,” another pause as he points to the accident site, “—as extreme as that.” 

“What was I supposed to do! That ghost was right there in front of me ready to attack me,” Junhui retaliates. In his defense, anybody would jump when a vengeful spirit abruptly appears before their eyes. 

Another man in their presence who is dressed in a proper tuxedo takes a journey down the staircase, guiding the ghost along with him. Junhui flinches and proceeds to stand behind Seokmin. 

The man puts his hand across his chest, a dips his head in a slight bow before flashing a smile at Junhui, “Apologies, guest number 10696. It had slipped my notice that guest 4732 here was wandering around whilst we were preparing his room,” he says in what Junhui thinks is a faux sweet tone coating each and every of his syllable. 

“However, it would be rude to not introduce myself before I escort our newest guest to his room. I, Joshua Hong, am the general manager of this hotel.” Joshua gives him another slight bow again, tugging at the other guest’s elbow, gesturing him to follow along. “Then, I’ll get going on with my job.” 

When Joshua leaves, silence envelopes the three of them as they stand in the middle of the lobby and Junhui feels the hair on his body standing up when he notices that Minghao and Seokmin are looking at the accident he had caused. 

‘ _Great going, Moon Jun. Now you’re going to be kicked out for real._ ’ He curses at himself before heaving a deep sigh. 

“I’m... sorry. I didn’t mean to do it, and I think... I have some money left in my bank account if you want me to compensate for it.” He stutters, bending down his body to bow a 90° bow at the hotel owner. “Though I’m not sure if my card is still valid or not because it’s been a year...” 

Xu Minghao looks at him with an amused glint in his eyes, “The usual means of transport to the afterlife bridge is the bus, or if you were a literal saint in your lifetime, I could give you a limousine. However...” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Destroying the properties of the hotel could mean that you’re going to have to walk to the bridge.” 

“It’s a long way there, Junhui. Most people would be grateful to be offered a bus.” Seokmin adds, trying to hide the snicker in his voice. 

“It wasn’t my fault that the ghost looked like he came out of a thriller psychology drama!” Junhui bites back, defending himself, slightly glaring at the smug hotel owner and the receptionist. 

“A little rude, are we?” Minghao brings up his arms and crosses them across his chest, looking at Junhui as if he’s challenging him into an argument. “I could kick you out of here for destroying my property, and you would never find a way to the afterlife.” It sounds a lot like a threaten, making Junhui swallow his saliva nervously. 

“Then your soul would be lost. And when the grim reaper Jeonghan comes to collect you, he won’t be nice.” Seokmin feigns a shiver, “He’s going to extract the soul out of your body and it’s supposedly super very painful.” 

_ ‘You don’t want to get on his nerve’ _

_ ‘He had told guests to fuck off before’  _

_ ‘You could be the nation’s crown prince and he would not bat an eye’ _

Something primal in Junhui awakens, defying natural selection, telling him to kneel before the man to seek for forgiveness or he’d be doomed forever. He really doesn’t want to spend years wandering around the streets of Seoul, not knowing where to go anymore. It was lonely, it was scary, it was anything but pleasant. 

So he does, drop down to the floor, hands on his knees, though he refuses to look at Minghao. “Please forgive me Sir! Please— please, I would do anything but please don’t kick me out of here.” 

Minghao rubs his chin with his index finger, as if he’s contemplating something. “Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

“Very well. Now, did you say you were an accountant?” 

* * *

Junhui doesn’t know how he managed to squirm out of Xu Minghao’s wrath, but thinks, for now, he’s saved from the horror of being a lost spirit wandering around in the outside world of of the living. However, he manages to find himself in an even stranger situation. 

Minghao has brought him to a— what Junhui supposes— a meeting room filled with people who claim to be part of the hotel management team. He is seated in a leather chair, feeling a little uncomfortable as he can feel three pairs of eyes ogling at him. Said subjects are sitting across him, scanning his entire being from head to toe. 

“Is there... something on my face?” Junhui finally asks when he’s exhausted of being treated like a new plaything. One of the trio, with bunched up cheeks and slanted eyes, clad in an attire that consists of black slacks, white dress shirt underneath the vest with the logo 8BAR on the left breast offers to speak up, “Are you joining our team?” 

Junhui’s face contorts in confusion, “I... don’t remember being offered a job placement here? Plus, why would a ghost work?” 

The one who is sitting on the far right dressed in all black replies, “If you’d like an extension of stay, you could work here. In fact, the workers here are all ghosts and work for Minghao. Except for me, Seungcheol, and Joshua, though. Because we’re all angels.” He finishes off with a smug smirk playing on his lips. 

A snort of disbelief comes from the man who’s sitting in between the two as he intercepts, “ _Angel of death_ , that is. Seungcheol is the naive deity, I agree, and Joshua is the second coming of Christ. The newbie hasn’t even been in here for 10 minutes and Jeonghan is already tricking him.” 

_Jeonghan_. The name sounds awfully similar to Junhui’s ears. He racks his brain for the memories from last night and it finally comes surging back up. 

_‘Even Jeonghan the grim reaper doesn’t dare to lay a finger on him’_

“Ah! Jeonghan the grim reaper?” 

Amusement streaks Jeonghan’s face, as he leans forward to look at Junhui closely. “Oh? You know my name? That’s a pleasant surprise. Although I don’t remember reaping your soul.” 

“Great. Even ghosts who are new here know of you. Probably because you’re a whole motherfucking conman, Yoon Jeonghan.” Middle guy speaks up again, “Yeah. That’s the infamous grim reaper Jeonghan. You should be careful of him because he’s quite the trickster. I mean, he’s a grim reaper because he cheated death once, so that explains.” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “Knock it off, Jihoon. You speak way too much for a scholar who was executed because he made music instead of studying.” 

“Hey! That was mean! It’s been 500 hundred years since he died, you didn’t need to jab him where it hurts.” 

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Kwon Soonyoung.” Jihoon now glares at the right guy who’s sitting at his right, “I may be a foot shorter than Jeonghan but I will fight him if I need to.” 

“Right. Insulting Jihoon’s death would insult yours too. I can’t believe you died because you danced and missed your footing and drowned your way to death.” 

Just before Soonyoung opens his mouth to retaliate Jeonghan’s claim, the door to the meeting room opens, revealing Minghao in his Fendi dress shirt, following closely behind are Joshua and Seokmin. The owner strides along and takes a seat at the very end of the long wooden table, Joshua sitting on his right whilst setting down a glass and a bottle of what Junhui presumes is wine. 

He clears his throat, “Good morning my dearest team,” he signals for Joshua to stop filling his glass once it reaches half full, “The reason why we’re all gathered here today is because I would like to introduce a new addition to our team.” Minghao swirls the glass in his hand, eyes scanning through everyone in the room. “Our hotel, however successful it is, I must say we aren’t doing too great in the financial aspect.” 

Joshua makes a sound that resembles a scoff which he quickly hides under the pretence of coughing. “Mr. Moon Junhui here was an accountant. I figured he’d be the perfect person to manage the financial resources in our hotel.” Minghao takes a sip of his drink, and Junhui tries not to think about the way the owner’s Adam’s apple bobbing. “Joshua, would you please?” 

A laptop is pushed in front of Junhui, and he recognises the familiar interface of QuickBooks. However, his mouth automatically lets out a gasp of concern when he sees the company’s unbalanced account, and how the resources are being used. 

He didn’t know that a hotel for ghosts would have such big revenues. 

Why the fuck would a hotel for the dead need luxury cars and designer items? 

“Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Balenciaga...” he whispers to himself, gasping even more at the horror he finds when he scrolls down more. “2 million Won wine? Why the heck would this hotel need this much red wine?” His finger continuously touches the trackpad, scrolling further down. “Why does this hotel have three different colours Land Roversof the same type? I’ve never seen such a mess of an account before.” 

When Junhui finally looks up, he sees Joshua smiling his faux professional smile at his direction. “Are all these necessities of the hotel? I don’t understand why ghosts would need these luxuries...” 

“Ah. Those aren’t for the ghosts,” Joshua clicks his tongue, now flashing Minghao his angelic smile, “When our guests leave to the afterlife, they would leave flowers behind and Seungcheol the deity is tasked to collect them. Those are what keeps this hotel running.” He pauses, “About these  belongings,  why don’t we have our Mr. Xu answer?” 

Minghao sets down his glass of wine, bringing his hands together in a defensive manner, “I like to enjoy the finer things in life.” 

“The very same finer things in life could cause us to go broke, they’ve given me a massive headache for quite a while now,” Joshua heaves a deep sigh, “Which is why we’ve asked you to help us from the financial point of view here.” 

“Are we going broke again? Mr. Xu, I really like the hotel as is. If we have to go back to our dirt poor times in 1920s, that would suck a lot.” Soonyoung pouts, immense fear evident in his eyes. “You remember, right? The wooden walls of our hotel were so thin I could almost cry.” 

“No, no. The business can still be saved,” Junhui interrupts, brows frowning as he rechecks the organisation’s balance again, “But you would need to let go of these cars. The tax can be damning, and you could go seriously bankrupt.” 

Joshua smiles what looks like a smile of somebody who had won an argument, “Mr. Xu, you heard that?” 

The man in question shakes his head. “No, I’m keeping them.” 

“You can’t. I’m telling you, you won’t be able to pay the tax with your revenue and you’d go bankrupt in a month.” 

“You heard him, Mr. Xu.” 

“Mr. Xu, please. Do you not remember how pitiful we were back then when we drank makgeolli in the cold because our heater broke down?” Jihoon’s pleas seems to strike a chord within Minghao when Junhui notices that his hands were balled into fists and seem to shiver. “No, I don’t want to go broke. I don’t want to lose my wine cellar.” 

“Then you’d have to let go of these cars. I would still allow you to keep three though.” 

Minghao sighs in defeat when he looks at his team looking at him with such hopeful eyes. He shuts his own tightly, tapping his bony index finger on the surface of the table as he thinks hard. 

“Fine. At least let me keep one Land Rover, and my THE 8 BMW series.” He stands up and points at Junhui, “You. We’re going on a field trip.” 

* * *

When Minghao gestures Junhui to step inside the elevator, he was expecting to exit out into the reception area, Junhui was surprised to see not the long marble counter, but rather a well-lit warehouse of glittering cars.

He stares dumbfounded at the sight before him. "What the fuck? I know you have a lot of cars but what the fuck?” 

Minghao saunters out of the elevator, “I’m thinking of Ferrari today, for the sake of last time.” 

"What the hell is this?” 

"What does it look like? A garage, obviously."

"Obviously?" Junhui repeats, following him. The warehouse was huge, and there are cars as far as the eye could see. "This place is a car factory! And you have a Ferrari? I didn’t see that in the account.”

Minghao looks back at him smugly. "I have three of those two.” 

"Why? I really don’t get these sets of three obsession. Do you drive in all three at once?” 

"Three different colors for three different occasions," Minghao replies. As if to prove this, he stops at a set of three cars, coloured black, red, and blue respectively.

He gives Junhui an appraising glance and seems to come to a decision, opening the door of the red car. "You coming? Figured I’d take a new employer out on a drive. The past year must’ve been hell to you.” 

The drive is silent for the first few minutes, Junhui sitting still in the expensive car because he’s afraid of ruining things again if he moves a muscle. It’s warm in the car, and Junhui isn’t sure if it’s because Minghao didn’t blast up the airconditioning or if he’s getting hot because of Minghao. 

Minghao has his one hand on the steering wheel, head resting against the window when they come to a stop light and the morning sunlight shining down on his skin— when bathed in the glorious lighting, Minghao’s skin looks honey hued. Junhui steals another glance, drinking in the sight of Minghao’s perfectly sculpted jawline, the slope of his nose which ends with a slightly round tip. 

Oh yeah. 

Xu Minghao is a hottie, alright. 

However, Junhui cannot brush away the thoughts of how eerily similar Minghao looks like the man in his dream. Though the man had long, unkempt hair, Junhui sees similar side profile, the rounded nose, the sharp feline-like eyes, and most importantly, the beauty mark under his eyes. He’s itching to ask the question, but he keeps his mouth shut just in case he gets on the owner’s bad side. 

“Are you done admiring me?” Minghao asks suddenly, sly smirk adorning his lips when he sees the deep red flushing Junhui’s cheeks. 

“What? No? I was just admiring your car and wondering why a ghost would need it.” He blurts out, and immediately cringes because even that sounds like a lie to his own ears. 

“I’m not dead, remember?” Minghao replies dryly, “Just not alive. And before you say anything, yes there’s a difference.” 

Junhui slumps right back into the leather seat of expensive car that he would still not be able to buy even if he were reborn 7 times, and the silence goes on for a long time before Junhui cannot control the itching curiosity and so he runs his mouth. 

“Hey. Just asking, do you know somebody who goes by the name of Seo Myungho?” 

The car comes to a sudden halt when Minghao slams on the brake unexpectedly pulling over the car, causing Junhui to jolt forward at the force of inertia. “Dude, what the hel—“ 

“You,” he grabs a good chunk of Junhui’s clothing harshly, leaning closer to the boy, so close that Junhui can see the shaky golden irises and hear the heavy breathing, Junhui thinks he smells chamomiles. “How did you come to know of the name?” His question is laced in a sharp manner, still not letting go of Junhui’s collar. “Can you let me—“ 

“Answer the damn question!” 

Minghao’s sudden shouting catches Junhui by surprised. His golden orbs are fully dilated, and knuckles are turning white at how tightly he’s gripping Junhui’s clothes. Junhui storms an idea inside his brain, “I— I don’t know! I thought the name was the Korean version of your name cause it sounded so awfully similar!” 

Minghao stills, absorbing Junhui’s answer for a while, and eventually loosening the grip. After a few beats, he completely lets go and slides back into his own seat. However, the sharp glare he gives Junhui goes unnoticed. Under his breath, he warns, “Do not ever speak of that name, or I could do very terrible things to you.” The quiet voice sends a shiver down Junhui’s spine, and not in a good way, so he nods. 

The rest of the drive becomes an uncomfortable silent one after Minghao’s sudden outburst. Junhui looks out the window and wonders what is the deal with the men in his dream and the reason behind Minghao’s trigger point.


	3. Lily; devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a flower to bloom, minghao needs to feel the wind, and face the rain too. love can be medicine, or it can be poison. it is what it is.

_You are my sun and my stars, my night, my day,_

_My seasons, summer, winter, my sweet spring,_

_My autumn song, the church in which I pray,_

_My land and ocean, all that the earth can bring,_

_Of glory and of sustenance, all that might be divine,_

_My alpha and my omega, and all that was ever mine._

* * *

The hotel, Junhui quickly gets to know later from a questionnaire session with Soonyoung who happens to hold the position of the head of housekeeping department, indeed has a bar which lives up to its brand name— 8BAR. Junhui has done a fair share of roaming around the premise, exploring all the different parts that the hotel has to offer these past few days.

No more encounters with nasty looking guests or knocking over valuable items.

Which also translates to no more encounters with a specific person who’s got a pair of golden irises with thin wire frame glasses resting on his bridge nose, all dressed up in different assortments of colourful fancy clothes from designer brands that Junhui can’t even dare pronounce.

Maybe, just maybe, after that drive, Junhui longs to see more of the owner and only disappointment meets him when he cannot find the sight of a dazzling Chanel necklace from far away in the crowd of guests in the lobby.

And maybe, just maybe, Junhui can’t stop thinking about the faint scent of chamomile undertones when the man leaned in close to him.

He hates to be the one to break off the misguided hope.

“That was just one harmless silly dream, and whoever this Seo Myungho is, it’s none of my business.” He shrugs off the thought, thinking out loud as he steps down the staircase and makes his way to the bar part of the hotel.

The bar is a lounge bar with artificial light lining along the island in the shades of rose quartz and serenity as its source of lighting. Various types of wine glasses from different sizes are hung upside down, suspended on the ceiling above the island. Behind the island is a tall cupboard filled with all sorts of drinks and concoctions, and Junhui thinks if he squints hard enough, he is able to recall some of the brand names from the hotel’s account statement he had seen a few days prior. Behind the island is also one of the guys he had met from the same day— Jihoon, furrowing his eyebrows together as the soft white light from his laptop illuminate his face, rivalling the colourful artificial vibe.

Junhui approaches one of the tall stools, dragging it quietly against the marble tile. The sound of metal scraping against the floor catches Jihoon’s attention, averting his eyes from the laptop in front of him. The corners of his lips lift up just slightly, and Junhui ponders, a little smile really takes away some of the mean demeanour he had previously put on in the meeting room.

“Hey. Junhui right? The accountant from the other day?” He snaps his laptop shut with a soft click. Junhui nods, “That’s me. If I remember correctly, you are Jihoon?”

“Lee Jihoon. The team meeting ended so abruptly last time, I didn’t get to introduce myself properly,” Jihoon says, getting off the stool behind the island, “I work as the bartender here.”

“But he also produces music in his free time!” A loud voice with three sets of footsteps enter the previously quiet space with only soft jazz music humming, creating a visible frown on Jihoon’s face. He mutters under his breath, “All I ask for is one peaceful day without Soonyoung. Just one day.”

Junhui turns around to meet the cause of disturbance and is met with a sight of two familiar people— the boisterous housekeeper Soonyoung, the seemingly chic grim reaper Jeonghan, and a new figure who is carrying a basket filled with lilies in his right hand.

“Jihoonie, we came to have a little drink and chat with you. What’s with the sour expression?” Jeonghan says, although Junhui can trace the undertones of teasing lacing his voice. Jihoon stares at him blankly, “That,” and points at Soonyoung, “That’s the problem. Maybe you guys should’ve came without him.”

Soonyoung pouts, looking like a kicked puppy, “We’ve worked for nearly 200 years together and you’re still as mean as ever...”

“Live with it, or you can board the bus to afterlife. I think Mr. Xu would be more than pleased to do that.”

Fairy-looking flower guy lets out an airy laugh, “Enough with the fight, kids.” His twinkling eyes are now looking at Junhui, “Are you the new accountant that Xu Minghao got?”

“Moon Junhui. I am the new, er, accountant I guess?” Junhui hesitates at the mention of being an accountant, it still sounds strange to his ears when he has to say his profession out loud when he’s been dead for a year now.

Flower guy flashes a smile, gums showing and all, Junhui doesn’t know why but he feels an odd sense of comfort looking at his smile. “I’m Seungcheol, not sure if the kids have talked about me yet or not, but the deity in charge here is me.”

Junhui feels as if somebody had stuffed gold bars inside his jaw, causing it to drop to the floor and hang open. He knew this place is filled with all sorts of supernatural beings— ghosts and grim reapers, but he’s not expecting to meet the actual deity there.

And then Vernon’s voice rings in his ears like a broken record.

_‘Therefore Seungcheol, the deity, punished him by binding him to the Soul Tree’_

He is then suddenly reminded of the weird dream, and he thinks of Minghao. He thinks of Minghao, and he thinks of Minghao’s supposed terrible past. Junhui fiddles with his fingers on top of the shiny surface of the island, eyes watching Jihoon and Soonyoung’s banter, and contemplates to ask the deity on his side.

As if he can sift through Junhui’s conflicted thought, Jeonghan decides to speak up before taking a long sip of his drink, “Curious about the Soul Tree? I think Seungcheol could tell you about it, right Cheolie?”

Junhui’s eyes widen in surprise and he feels hair raising on the back of his neck at Jeonghan’s spot on instincts— Junhui guesses it comes in set with being a grim reaper. He swallows thickly in his throat, the offer sounds very tempting, but his memories bring back to the smell of chamomile and Minghao’s threaten. 

Eventually, curiosity gets to the best of him and Junhui has never been one to uphold his temptations in place.

“I could use a story time.”

Seungcheol sighs into his glass, “Xu Minghao was a rather stubborn kid, that one. He has a lot of anger to burn, even up until now. In our lives we make mistakes, it just so happened that Minghao committed one that would stop the flow of death and life for him.”

“The heavens won’t allow him to cross the bridge to afterlife because of his sins, and this deity won’t allow me to reap the soul of his kid,” Jeonghan continues for Seungcheol, and Junhui thinks he sees an unmistakable fond in Jeonghan’s eyes when he looks at the deity, “And here’s where the Soul Tree comes in.”

“I know he’s a good kid, and he just needs to learn his lessons,” Seungcheol smiles bitterly, “I made him the owner of this hotel by binding him to the tree. Minghao’s soul is represented by the Soul Tree. Whatever he’s feeling, the tree will mirror that.” Seungcheol’s lips curl, stretching into a small sad smile. “He will only leave for the afterlife when the Soul Tree blooms its flowers.”

“I’ve been working here for 500 years, and I’ve never seen the flower bloom even once. Are you sure he will even get to leave?” Jihoon asks absentmindedly.

“It’s the price he has to pay for what he did, my dear.”

Junhui doesn’t say anything in reply. Instead, he lets the newly found information sink in, drifting back to the conversation that he had with the Seungkwan-Vernon-Chan trio. 1300 years is a long time to be imprisoned in a realm where one doesn’t belong. 1300 years is a long time to be spending all by himself.

Junhui tries to imagine how lonely the hotel owner must’ve felt throughout the years. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he feels the need to help Minghao out, despite knowing him for only a few days. The words slide past his lips before he even realises that he’s saying them out loud, “How much longer will you keep him tied up to the tree?”

“It’s him who’s not budging.” Jeonghan responds, a solemn expression written all over his face.

“For a flower to bloom, he needs to feel the wind, and face the rain too,” Seungcheol smiles knowingly, muttering the last part, “And that’s why I sent you here, after all.”

* * *

Feeding his curiosity, Junhui goes on a search inside the hotel to find the Soul Tree, which Jeonghan mentioned is situated in the garden of the hotel. He strides along the blue painted walls which lead him to the wooden double doors at the end of the hallway with a sign that reads ‘GARDEN’ attached on top of it. When the tips of his shoes finally touch the wooden surface of the door, Junhui inhales deeply, inserting force into the muscles of his arms to push open the wooden door.

When the door opens, it reveals a rather grim looking space. Junhui had expected to be greeted with delightful smells of florals mixed with the summer air tickling his senses, or the sound of birds and the tinkling of wind chimes. He had expected to be greeted with beds of colourful flowers. He had expected everything, everything but what he’s seeing with his eyes.

No flowers.

No delightful fragrances.

No sound of birds.

Only an eerie silence with the sound dead leaves rustling among the wind greet him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The garden isn’t very well lit, a complete contrast to the rest of the hotel which seems to always bustle with lights it’s almost blinding. The sole source of lighting in the garden comes from the vintage birdcage lamp.

Then Junhui sees it—the Soul Tree, standing tall in the centre of the barren garden. The huge tree lacks any leaves in the colour of green, the only leaves that are visible to Junhui are the dead ones which seem to have covered up a good amount of space on the ground. Its thin, brittle branches grow out from its sturdy trunk. Underneath the tree by its network of roots is a small round metal table, complete with a set of two chairs.

Junhui wills himself to get closer to the tree, rubber soles of his worn-out shoes screeching against the floor with each step that he takes. He feels like he’s treading dangerous waters, heck, the garden could be off-limits to the guests and he wouldn’t even know. But the gnawing emptiness within his chest seems to grow even stronger when he nears the tree.

Just as he reaches out his hand to touch the trunk of the Soul Tree, a voice ruptures the quietness of the room.

“Oh? I wasn’t expecting a guest.”

He retracts his hand swiftly, keeping it to his side as he whirls his body to look for the owner of the voice. Xu Minghao is standing by the door, clad in his Vivienne Westwood Anglomania shirt, holding what looks like a bottle of red wine that should cost just as much as what’s draped over his body and a glass. His expensive dress shoes tap against the floor as he walks towards the table.

Junhui swallows his saliva tensely, his mind scouring for words and excuses he should make for being found in the garden. “I just— I’m sorry. Jeonghan said there’s a garden in the hotel and I thought I’d go look for it. I don’t even know if I’m allowed here,” he mumbles out rapidly, and adds, “If I’m not supposed to be here, I’m sorry and I’ll leave right away.”

Minghao gives Junhui nothing but a blank look, leaving the both of them in yet another silence. Junhui takes that as a cue to leave, ready to take a step to make a mad dash to the door.

“I didn’t say anything about this being a forbidden place,” Minghao finally speaks, setting the wine bottle and the glass on the metal table and pulling the chair out before sitting down and gesturing for Junhui to take the seat across him, “Sit down.”

Junhui timidly sit down on the chair, careful to not thump loudly as his weight makes contact with the chair and he folds his hands politely in his lap. Minghao pours the wine, steady red liquid steadily going into the glass. When he’s done, he pushes the glass towards Junhui.

Junhui’s eyes wide, hands flailing around to make refuse the glass, “You shouldn’t have! I don’t really drink, and…” he chews on his bottom lip, “You brought the glass for yourself, and I came here unannounced.”

A beat of silence washes over them again before Minghao’s quiet laughter fills the air for a short while.

It’s low.

It’s not perfect.

But it suits him, and it also paints Junhui’s cheeks in a light hint of cerise.

“Take it as me being a nice hotelier to my clientele, and also,” he takes a swig of the wine straight from the bottle, “It’s a funeral tradition, isn’t it? We offer alcohol to the dead anyway.” A low content sigh escapes his throat, “This is the good stuff. I know I’m supposed to offer you soju if we play by the funeral tradition rules, but this is one of the best from my cellar, you should enjoy it.”

And Junhui does, quickly picking up the wine glass with his two hands as one would a cup tea, he brings it to his lips and lets the liquid into his system, earning an amused smile from Minghao. He mumbles an inaudible thanks before setting down the glass on the table.

Minghao takes another swig, glancing at the fidgeting Junhui and at the tree, “Seeing how you’ve found your way to the garden, I guess you met Seungcheol?”

Junhui’s ears perk up at the mention of the likeable deity’s name, “A while ago, at the bar, yeah.”

Minghao looks completely unfazed as he holds up the aged liquid in his grip, “They must have repeated the same old story of how dear deity punished Xu Minghao and how he has been stuck here for 1300 years,” he shifts his gaze to the Soul Tree, his next words coming out bitter, “I’m all dried up and shrivelled. If only Seungcheol cuts it up and burn it, I’ll be on my way.”

Junhui wavers for a beat before expressing his thoughts, “Vernon told me that most of us are still here because we have something that we haven’t done yet, and… and, maybe that’s the case for you, Mr. Xu?”

“Just Minghao is fine. I looked up your age on your profile, you’re older than me.”

“What? No! I’m 24 years old, you’re 1300 years old.”

Minghao rolls his eyes, bringing the tip of the bottle to his lips and tilting his head backwards, exposing the defined jawline and smooth skin. He then proceeds to wipe the traces of leftover wine on his lips with a handkerchief from his pocket, “I was 23 when I…” pauses, giving the Soul Tree another glance, “When Seungcheol did this to me. So technically, I am younger than you by a year.”

Something itches in Junhui when he hears the connection between the deity, the punishment, and Minghao, but he knows he would be treading the dangerous waters if he runs his smart mouth to ask about it, just like last time.

So he bites his lips from asking, and downs the wine, and Minghao pours him another.

“What about you? What is that’s holding you back from leaving?”

The question catches Junhui off guard, his mind sifting through his memories and his memories bring him to one person.

A certain person.

Tall. Lean. With glasses. Has the tendency to sing to himself when he thinks no one is watching him. Stores random information inside his brain.

Junhui’s sunshine.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“I would like to see my boyfriend,” he pauses, realising that it’s strange to still be referring to Wonwoo by that title, “Ex-boyfriend, I would like to see him happy.”

Minghao hums, acknowledging Junhui’s words, “We could arrange that. I’ll let Joshua know, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Junhui doesn’t say anything but he picks up his glass, and drinks his sorrows away.

He drinks, and drinks, and continues drinking until he sees nothing but black.

* * *

_“This shall be the place of your living from now on.” The royal guard warns, eyes glancing at Myungho sharply. The frail boy tightens his grip on the sack made of straw, holding it closer to his body. The man speaks up again, holding Myungho by his chin, “If I or any other royal guards catch you doing unfavourable deeds, I would not hesitate to send an arrow into your heart,” He releases his grip on Myungho’s chin, wiping his hand on the sleeves of his robes with disgust, “Understood? You filthy peasant.”_

_Myungho nods, “Yes, Sir. I will be aware of my place here as the royal court entertainer, Sir.” His body bends into bow, almost touching the ground, and when the royal guard finally leaves, Myungho studies his surroundings. He has never been to the town before, let alone on the royal palace grounds._

_Last week was the first time he had travelled to the town, scrubbing his face clean with the sea water and brushing down his hair with the comb he had made out of bamboo and his sword. He put on the best plain white hanbok he had stolen from when he ransacked the neighbouring village not too long ago. Keeping the promise he sealed with the crown prince._

_He closed his eyes as he moved towards the centre of the crowd, not registering the sounds of the villagers whispering and he allowed his body to flow to the sound of hyung-ak. Behind his closed eyes, he imagined the crown prince’s face in front in the dark of the night. He imagined the faint smell of chamomile petals tickling his nose, he remembered the ways that the crown prince makes him feel, and continued dancing._

_Next thing he knew, he was approached by one of the attending royal guards, telling him to bring along all his belongings because he was successful in the search of the gisaeng._

_Next thing he knew, he is standing in front of the small quarter where the gisaeng like himself lives, not too far from the court ladies’ chamber. Myungho removes his footwear, carefully setting in on the step and he throws his sack over his shoulder, pushing open the door to the chamber._

_A sight of a young boy no older than him greets his sight. The boy looks to be surprise, giving Myungho a thorough inspection from head to toe before hushing, “Do you go by the name Seo Myungho?”_

_“Yes. I was made to be the new gisaeng, and I was instructed by one of the guards to live here.”_

_The boy lunges forward to meet Myungho, slightly startling the other, “I was running an errand in town the other day, and I saw you dancing amongst the people. Tell me, where did you learn to dance like that? You truly left me in awe!” The boy babbles excitedly, and then trailing off when it dawns on him he hasn’t introduced himself._

_“Do forgive me for not having given you my name just yet,” He smiles sheepishly, “My name is Huang Renjun, and I have been one of the gisaeng here for quite a while now.” The sheepish smile turns into a bright one, “I truly admired your performance by the market! Hopefully, you could teach me how to perform like that!”_

_Myungho’s heart feels warm._

_Renjun looks at him with his eyes full of hope, something that Myungho isn’t quite used to._

_He’s not used to other human beings kicking him to the ground, telling him how much of a filthy outcaste he is, let alone one telling him they adore his performance and wanting him to teach them._

_He’s not used to being treated with such kindness._

_Except for when he’s with the crown prince. It reminds him of his first encounter with the crown prince. It was another day of hunting for live kills for Myungho near the chamomile field, where he could usually source rabbits which could be his meal for the next two nights. When he stepped into the field, he heard a low whimpering of an animal, and he was beyond ecstatic when he saw the helpless rabbit caught in a trap made of sticks and tree branches. That meant he could forgo having to chase agile rabbits around— what a luck. Myungho raised his dagger in the air, ready to put the rabbit to bed once and for all._

_“Stop right there!”_

_A voice from the other side of the chamomile field shouted. Myungho raised his head, searching for it, and he saw a tall figure dashing towards him, wind blowing through his hair. When he reached Myungho, he quickly flipped the trap upside down, grabbing the rabbit and letting it go, escaping into the thick bushes._

_Flares of anger raise within Myungho, angry of the stranger letting go his prey item. “You!” He riased his dagger to the unknown man, “That was supposed to be my kill! How dare you let it get away?”_

_The unknown man laughed in disbelief, which sent Myungho further into rage, “Correction— it was my trap. Looking at how high you pointed your dagger, the poor thing would have suffered a painful death. Who taught you to hunt that way? Such a horrendous sight.”_

_The anger rises even more, Myungho’s nosetrils flaring as he bites down his anger. “Shut up! I was never made to enter the royal academy— or the royal millitary! But I am proud to have killed my own kills myself instead of having them handed to me on a silver platter!”_

_Unknown man was dumbfounded for a short while, and then he bursted into a bright laughter, “You’ve a lot of guts,” He smiled, revealing his sharp canines, “Say, what’s your name? I go by Kim Mingyu.”_

_Myungho is snapped out of his reverie when Renjun clears his throat and takes a grip of his sack of useable clothes. “You should rest. It must have been a long journey here. I shall prepare your living space.” He smiles brightly once again, taking Myungho’s sack and turning his heels around._

_“Ah! I’ve nearly forgotten,” Renjun chirps loudly, stuffing his hand into the crevice of his robe to pull out a piece pf neatly folded paper, “I was given this by one of the court ladies and it was to be delivered to Seo Myungho.”_

_Myungho takes the crisp paper between his fingers, eyebrows furrowed together, “From whom?”_

_“It’s not of my knowledge,” Renjun shrugs his shoulders before turning on his heels once again, “Now if you’ll excuse me…”_

_When he’s absolutely sure that the boy is no longer around, Myungho carefully peels apart the paper, and a strong scent of chamomile greets him, sending pulses of excitement through his body when it’s the tell-tale sign of from whom it could be._

_On the paper is a drawing of the waves, and a rat._

_A shade of light crimson colours Myungho’s cheeks. He is by no means able to read, but he figures he could hear the voice of the crown prince._

_‘Meet me by the ocean, hour of the rat.’_

_No one was ever kind to Seo Myungho—only the crown prince Kim Mingyu._

_Everything that Myungho holds between his fingers is stolen from the others—except for Kim Mingyu, all that is ever his._

* * *

_It’s the hour of the dog when Crown Prince Kim Mingyu starts readying himself, brushing through his newly washed hair, smelling faintly of the different fragrances of petals that the court ladies had picked out for him. A little smile forms on his lips as he awaits for the hour of the rat to arrive. However, his attending eunuch seems to not be in the same joyous condition, pacing back and forth inside the crown prince’s chamber._

_Mingyu stops brushing through his soft hair, looking at his eunuch from the mirror, “Eunuch Hong, what appears to be the matter?”_

_The young eunuch flinches and stops moving at an instant, “Forgive me for my behaviour, Your Highness. However, I would like to advise you to not leave the palace grounds tonight as the King and the Queen have ordered a meeting with you.”_

_Something drops inside the crown prince’s stomach, sudden fear wrapping itself around him, and a thought of a lanky boy waiting by the seashore flashes his mind._

_He swallows nervously, patting down on his robes to smooth it out, feigning the nervousness that he is harbouring and silently prays to whatever deities there are for his late night rendezvous to not be the centre of the meeting._

_Mingyu knows, being the crown prince—it would be selfish of him to ask the deities to grant his wishes._

_But none of which Mingyu owns is ever his, all handed to him because he is part of the royal family—except for the lanky bandit whose smile rivals that of chamomiles in summer days._

* * *

_“You are to be wedded to Jeon Wonwoo, the prince of Baekje.”_

* * *

After grabbing and shoving a week worth of unhealthy food supply into the basket, Wonwoo walks towards the cashier counter and queues in line. When it’s almost his turn to pay, he rummages through his backpack for his wallet. However, after seconds of raiding, Wonwoo realises his wallet isn’t there.

“Will it be cash or card, sir?”

The cashier waits patiently, but when Wonwoo almost wildly pours the contents of his backpack onto the counter, her expression changed.

“My wallet,” Wonwoo whispers in confusion. “It’s—it’s not here, I—“

“Sir, if you need some more time to look for your wallet, you can step aside and let the others pay first,” she politely informs Wonwoo, but her expression shows that she is actually annoyed.

Wonwoo feels his cheeks reddening at the gesture and he vaguely nods, “Oh god.” He whimpers weakly, wondering if he had left it at home—

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to—“

“That would be cash.”

Wonwoo is close to breaking into tears (simply because he was panicked) when he hears a firm voice beside him. He stifles a sob as he glances up and everything seems to come to a stop.

He has never seen the man before, but he has tanned skin and when he smiles—Wonwo thinks it could rival the sun.

“O—oh,” the cashier stutters. “It will be cash, then.”

“Yes.” The male turns to Wonwoo with a smile, canines peeking through, and strokes his hair. “I’m sorry I’m late. Did you forget that your wallet is in the apartment? And I told you I will pay.”

Wonwoo is too dumbfounded to reply anything. He finally nods after the handsome man shoot him a look and he decides to play along.

“I’m sorry, I forgot...”

The girl’s jaw involuntarily drops because god damn, the man is very handsome. She snaps herself back to life when she earns firm stares from the other people behind Wonwoo and proceeds as quick as she could. Wonwoo’s mouth goes dry when the taller male stays close beside him as he eyes the cashier’s movement. He hands her a few bills after everything is done and she hands him back some change. After taking the grocery bags, the tanned male nods slightly at the cashier before patting Wonwoo on the back.

“Let’s go.”

Wonwoo unwillingly follows the male (well, willingly, first because he has his groceries and second, because he practically saved him.) outside the store. They walk a few more steps before the other male abruptly stops and turns around to face him. Wonwo sucks in a deep breath.

“Here,” the male hands him all of the plastic bags.

“Th—thank you.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“Eh? Yeah... J—just a few blocks...”

“Then you should be alright.”

“I—“ Wonwoo pauses. He is being very rude, isn’t he? The male had helped him and he could at least do something to pay him back. “I’m sorry, I—I think I left my wallet at my house but I’m gonna have to check it first. Oh God, I am so clumsy... I—I will pay you back as soon as I can.”

The taller male only stares when Wonwoo shifts all of the bags into a hand and his other hand roams freely on his own thighs and buttocks just to recheck.

“It’s okay. As long as you find your wallet.” The man smiles again, and Wonwoo’s heart thump loudly in his ribcage.

“I live around here anyway. You can always pay me back some other day. I’m Kim Mingyu, what’s your name?”


	4. Forget Me Not; memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Minghao waits for him like a lonely house till he will see him again and live in him. Till then, his windows ache.
> 
> Junhui brings Minghao wind, but also brings him rain too.

_In this part of the story I am the one who_

_dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,_

_because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood._

* * *

_  
It was dead silent, just before the hour of the dog broke, as the only light in the chamber filter through the small crack in the window. Immense shadows were casted, engulfing the many surfaces it could manage to land itself on. Through the minimal lighting, the prince of Baekje could make out the figure of the man standing in the shadows, cold ruthless eyes piercing through him, dragging the tip of his sword against the wooden floor._

_The prince did not falter, he was raised to never fear the threaten of anyone. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of the red wedding robes draping over his body, gathering the last ounce of courage he had to speak up, “Speak. What is it that you want from me?”_

_The man in the shadows offered no answer, only turning up the sides of his lips into a sly smile, “You look rather dashing tonight, Your Highness.” He only stepped out of the shadows, feigning a look of concern on his face. “How unfortunate though, His Highness wouldn’t be able to witness your beauty.” His eyes flashed in challenge, “Don’t worry, I will make up for your beloved’s presence.”_

_One second ago he was hidden in the darkness of the night, the next he was running up to the defenseless prince of Baekje, raising his sword high and flashing another smile at the prince beneath him, “Although I’m not sure if it will be a beautiful sight. However, I do believe that blood should be exchanged with blood.” Venom laced his words that came out bitter and then—_

_The sword pierced through the prince’s red wedding robes and went right on through to bleed the heart that beat for his lover. It sliced the chest that had witnessed a million kisses and wrapped its protection around the people of Baekje in their everlasting hugs. Yet none of that mattered to the sword or the man with ragged clothes, and the prince’s blood was as red as his wedding robes, on his wedding night._

_The prince’s face, so beautiful in life was frozen, eyes open, mouth slack, and he was propelled backward. His eyes clung to the last bits of life and in those fractions of seconds he was there and then gone, the warmth of the ages that had been his love simply vanished._

_“You took away the only boy who loved me the most, and I shall take your beloved too.”_

* * *

Junhui awakes to soft sheets, and the morning light trickles through the heavy velvety curtains. He shreds himself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, his eyes are still shut as he soaks in the warmth of the covers before letting his dark brown eyes see the sun’s rays.

The coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance greets Junhui. He rubs the remnants of sleep that are still clinging to his eyes and gazes out at the horizon before he finally makes sense of his surroundings.

Oh no.

Marbled floors. Walls in the shade of wine red.

Oh no.

He allows his eyes to scan around the room quickly again, realizing that it is not his own hotel room, and he has no idea where he is. It’s an unfamiliar sight, and he’s had enough of showing up unannounced at places he is off limits too. Without wasting any more time, Junhui hastily springs out of the bed to make a dash to the exit.

“Why the rush?”

In that moment when Junhui looks to find the source of the voice— only to see Xu Minghao, in all his fancy glory, sitting in his high quality leather chair with his expensive shoes cladded feet propped up on his table, crossing his arms across his chest and a sleeping mask on his face— Junhui thinks, damn, Seungcheol must really secretly hates him to be toying with his fate like this.

Of course he would mysteriously fall asleep in an unfamiliar place.

Of course said unfamiliar place would happen to be Minghao’s office.

Junhui’s brain stutters for a moment and his eyes take in more light that he expected, every part of him goes on pause while his thoughts catch up. “MInghao, I swear to God—whatever God there is out there, I swear to every one of them—I don’t know how I ended up in your office, I—”

Minghao removes his feet from the table and a portion of the sleeping mask, revealing only his right eye, “Stop blabbering. Don’t you remember last night? We drank a little and you blacked out completely, so I took you to my office.”

Junhui’s cheeks are suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming color contrasting against his skin. “Told you I can’t handle liquor well, not even when I was human, and apparently I suck just as much even when I’m ghost. But…” Then it finally dawns on Junhui that he was brought to Minghao’s office instead of his room. “Why didn’t you bring me to my room?”

Minghao only stares blankly at Junhui, and sudden horror creeps onto Junhui’s skin at the thought of the other _possibility_. “Oh my God… Don’t tell me we…” Junhui gasps, putting up his arms on his body defensively, “You 1300 years old pervert!”

Junhui’s sudden outburst manages to garner a reaction from Minghao—his face contorting into a mix of displeasure and amusement, “Get your head out of the gutter, Moon Junhui. Again, I’m only 23. The other staffs were busy with new guests last night, couldn’t exactly call them for help. My office is nearer. Hence.” He pauses for a while, contemplates on adding, “I don’t sleep with my employees, or guests who had caused a destruction to my hotel.”

Pink colours Junhui’s cheeks once more, then his lips forming into a slight pout when he catches the one of Minghao’s words, “You are so mean in real life. Why can’t you smile nicely like you did in my dreams?”

The hotel owner snickers and a hint of interest flickers in his gold eyes, “You dream of me?” He snickers, “I forgive you. You’re a healthy adult, despite being a ghost. It’s normal to have dreams like that.”

Junhui blushes for the third time of the day (he’s only just woken up, too.), a look of disbelief accompanies his shriek, “What? No! _You_ get your head out of the gutter! It wasn’t that kind of dream.” He huffs out in annoyance, “It was weird, now that I think about it. I remember seeing you dressed up in these ugly, torn, dirty clothes. You were sitting by the seaside at night, underneath the moonlight. You looked lonely though, as if you were waiting for somebody.” Junhui says, whispering the last parts.

The next beat of his heart, Junhui finds himself being tackled onto the bed by Minghao’s force, pinning him down on the soft sheets, wrists held down on each side of his face. Junhui slowly cracks his eyes open, and he sees golden staring right back at him. He could feel his heart beat, every single pound in his chest, when the faint scent of chamomile invades his senses.

Minghao looks like he’s staring into the deepest pits of Junhui’s mind, where he keeps all the secrets he would never tell a soul, and with a low voice, Minghao commands. “Say that again. Tell me, what is it that you saw in your dreams? Is that how you also come to know of Seo Myungho?”

Junhui shifts uncomfortably under Minghao’s domination, averting his gaze from the man’s intense gaze, “I—I’m not sure. My dreams have always been hazy but—yeah, I remember hearing the name Seo Myungho being called by this man, but I can’t recall his features.”

Something flickers in Minghao’s golden irises.

Something that Junhui can’t quite pinpoint.

“Moon Junhui. Go to sleep. Now.”

“Wha—why?”

“You need to sleep so you can dream. Whether you really saw me in your dreams or you’re completely deceiving me with something you overheard here, I need to confirm that.” Minghao deadpans, looking unfazed as he never loosens his hold on Junhui’s wrists.

The man underneath the hotel owner squirms to break free, to no avail though, Minghao’s grip rivals that of a wild predator preying on its kill. Sighing deeply, Junhui points out, “Even if you force me to sleep, I don’t always dream, you know?”

Minghao’s nicely drawn eyebrows furrow into confusion when he slowly releases the death grip on Junhui’s wrists, to which the man rubs to ease the pain of being pinned down. Minghao then opts to lay on his side and watches Junhui with great intent, “Fine. Then sleep next to me until you fall asleep and dream.”

Junhui jolts and sits upright, glaring at the hotel owner, “This is privacy violation!” Minghao follows suit, mirroring Junhui’s pose by sitting up, “I’m your employer, I deserve to know any affairs that involves myself. Also, I need to check if you’re entering my memories, which would mean you are the one who’s violating my privacy.” He continues, “Who knows if Seungcheol has given you the power, that dainty deity sure is sly. Probably Yoon Jeonghan is a bad influence on his deity conscience.”

“Are the memories that I revived that painful to you?” Junhui asks, before hesitantly shooting another question, “Who is the man that I saw? He was with you by the seaside in one of my dreams.”

“Why? Curious? You think the man was you?” 

“I did wonder if I was seeing my own past life. ‘Cause why else would I have such dreams, right?”

Minghao gives Junhui one meaningful look, “There’s no way you’re him, because when I do this,” and brings up his right hand to put over Junhui’s chest where his heart is, “I feel nothing.”

Junhui laughs nervously, processing the situation and makes out his best lie, “Okay. I’m glad then, that I’m not somebody that you used to like.”

The hotel owner stays quiet for a long time, mulling over Junhui’s words, and then he proceeds to stand up, smoothening over his denim Balenciaga jacket (one that makes him look indistinguishable from other 23 year olds, one that makes people give him second takes.). “Very well then. That aside, I need you to come along with me tonight to solve some urgent matter.”

It’s Junhui’s turn to knit his eyebrows this time, clearly perplexed at the hotel owner’s strange request, “What do you need me for? You hired me as an accountant, not a manager. Shouldn’t you ask for Mr. Hong’s assistance?”

Clicking his tongue, Minghao responds, “Don’t flatter yourself, I would have definitely called for Joshua’s skillful assistance but tonight he’s running some other errands.”

“What about the other guys? Soonyoung? Jihoon? Seokmin?”

“Soonyoung would be lost, Jihoon hates going out, and Seokmin can’t leave the front desk unattended, we have a busy night ahead of us.” Minghao says nonchalantly, “Which leaves me with only you in our team. Before you argue, Jeonghan is out doing his Reaper duties, so he can’t come too.”

Junhui groans in defeat, “Fine.”

* * *

“I need you to look for something. It’s a red pouch, about the size of your palm. It should be around this neighbourhood somewhere, so we can start from the park, but whatever you do, don’t open it.”

Junhui snorts, “Why? Is it your personal stash of adult fun time materials?”

“Funny,” Minghao says, “But it belongs to one of the guests that came in last night. She’s super distraught now, so we better get to searching quickly.”

Junhui scoffs, “Have you seen this park? It’s super fucking huge, yes?”

“What can we do? My wine cellar doesn’t pay for itself, and our guest is the daughter of one of the biggest companies in Seoul. This is how you do business, Moon Junhui.”

Junhui frowns, but does not probe for further information, and Minghao doesn’t offer more. They search every crook and nanny of the park in silence, hoping that the red pouch would be stuck between the tall grass just like how they had hoped.

“Ugh,” Junhui groans, “This is gonna take freaking forever. What is the deal with the red pouch anyway?”

Minghao flicks sand from his expensive shoe, “It’s a marriage pouch. You can use it to arrange weddings for the dead.”

“What the fuck? How does that work?”

As they continue to search for the red pouch, Minghao explains, “You would put any parts of the deceased, like their hair or nails, into the pouch. Then you’re going to send it out into the world, whoever opens it would become the bride-groom of the deceased. Our customer’s family sent it out here, in this neighbourhood.”

Junhui frowns, “Wouldn’t that mean she doesn’t wanna get married?”

“That’s none of my business. I’m here to satisfy my guest’s needs, not pry into their personal lives.”

Junhui stares at his boss, suddenly alarmed, “What if somebody has already found it and mistakenly opened it?”

Minghao’s smile is dark, “That somebody would be sent to the afterlife. Permanently.”

“Like… if they are an undead, they would… _die_?”

“I told you it’s an urgent matter.”

Junhui’s mouth falls open, “You should have told me that stuff earlier!”

He runs off to search even harder, agreeing to split up with Minghao to search in different parts of the neighbourhood. Junhui finds himself in one of the dirty alleyways. At first he doubted that the red pouch would be in the back alley of some random Chinese restaurants, but he figures it’s worth a try anyway. So he walks down the damp and dark alley, eyes scanning around for something the size of his palm and red.

But, the air doesn’t feel right at all, it makes Junhui shudder each time the cold air brushes against his skin. Something in his gut tells him to get out of the alley faster and search elsewhere, but the drive to find the red pouch is stronger and outweighs his gut feeling telling him that he’s going to be in danger.

“Ah. What do we have here? A soul who’s on his way to the afterlife?”

The strange voice makes Junhui jumps, and when he whirls his body around to look for it, he wishes he wouldn’t have.

The ghost whimpers like a lost child, its bloody and gashed hand clinging to a ragged doll, it’s eyes devoid of any emotions brim with silver tears that shine brightly in the moonlight. It takes a step forward, getting closer to Junhui, before whispering softly with a wicked smile across its face, “Why don’t we exchange bodies? You can continue wandering the earth if you give me your body.”

Junhui knows danger when he sees one. So he runs, his breath coming in small spurts, hot and nervous. At his sides, his fingers curl into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if the act would make him faster. Behind him in the distance, he hears the shrill howls of the ghost. When he finally makes out of the alleyway, Junhui spots a nearby playground and goes to hide behind the tunnel slide.

Just when he thought he’s saved from the vengeful spirit, he hears it singing.

“ _Hide, hide carefully. I can see the top of your head._

_Even if a rat asks you, don’t move and don’t raise your head._

_Even if an ant asks you, don’t move and don’t raise your head.”_

Junhui’s hands tremble and his eyes water as he peeks through the slide, seeing the pale and bloody hand holding a ragged doll a few feet away from hm. His body feels hot and sweat starts trickling down his neck. With every move he makes, he gets more and more terrified. His breath quickens as he hears the rustling of the sand nearing him.

He doesn’t think of anything, only one person comes to his mind right now—the only person he thinks that could save him. So, he shuts his eyes tightly and sends out prayers to the universe.

Minghao.

_Minghao._

And then, a familiar comforting hazy aroma of chamomile tickles his senses. Junhui snaps his eyes open hurriedly, and he’s never been anymore glad than he is right now when he sees the hotel owner crouched down next to him—eyes hyperaware of the ghost as he peeks at it.

“Ming—“

Minghao quickly brings up an index finger to his lips, golden irises dilated as he orders Junhui to stay quiet. The ghost takes notice of the slight sound and another terrific smirk is splayed across its face as it skips around the swing set, “You can come out now, I promise you soul switching isn’t that painful.”

Junhui accidentally lets a sob escape from his mouth due to the fear that’s still instilled in him. Minghao golden irises dilated again, alarmed, when the ghost whips its head around and searches for the source of the sound, laughing hysterically.

The next thing Junhui knows, Minghao has brushed his lips on his and nearly knocked all the wind from Junhui’s lungs.

Minghao kisses Junhui and the world falls away.

Junhui hardly has a moment to react before Minghao presses his soft lips on Junhui’s, strong scent of old wine being exchanged in their billowing breaths.

When Minghao kisses Junhui, the boy’s brain lights on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. When Minghao kisses Junhui, he feels his fear of the vengeful spirit melting away.

He feels no fear, just Minghao’s lips against him.

Then, Minghao pulls away, cradling the sides of Junhui’s face and he says lowly in a thick voice, “Be quiet so it can’t hear us. Jeonghan’s coming over in a few.”

Junhui nods frantically, blush burning through his cheeks and his face feels like a hot oven. He suddenly feels awkward as he attempts to hide his rosy cheeks behind his fingers.

Speak of the devil, Jeonghan’s lazy voice makes its grand entrance a few minutes later, “I finally found you, you fucker. You’re going around trying to switch souls now? Tell you what, I’ll extract your soul so painfully you and send you to the deepest pits of hell, you wouldn’t even have a chance to be reincarnated.” When Jeonghan wraps his fingers around the spirit’s neck, it lets out a painful shriek, reducing to nothing but ashes, booming in Junhui’s ears.

Minghao finally stands up, studying his surroundings once more to make sure that Jeonghan is gone with spirit. He nods at Junhui who’s still crouching down, “It’s safe now. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you wander around. I forgot that Jeonghan said there was a vengeful spirit on the loose in this area.”

“You and Jeonghan came in time anyway. I was not harmed. Thanks.” The words come out too quickly, too awkwardly, too loudly, and Junhui’s cheeks burn again. He holds to the pole supporting the tube slide for his own support to stand up. Just as his fingers brush again the pole, his fingers touch a silky cloth. Then, said silky cloth falls to the ground, revealing its nature—striking red colour, about the size of Junhui’s palm.

“Minghao! Isn’t that the—” Junhui quickly bends down to pick it up, his voice going a tone higher at the red pouch they had been vying for for hours, “We finally found it!”

Junhui picks it up and waves it in front of Minghao’s eyes, and then the seams of the red pouch come undone, spilling its contents of a ball of black hair. Rapidly, a red string ravels tightly around Junhui’s pinky finger.

Horror paints Minghao’s face, “We’re fucked now. I told you not to touch it, Moon Junhui!”

* * *

Choi Seungcheol stands in front of the Soul Tree, right hand holding a basket of white lilies, and on his face is a soft smile, booming with pride. His eyes are fixated on one part of the tree where a small bud can be seen forming. It’s small, but surely, it will grow bigger in time and bloom into a flower. The door to the garden opens, and Yoon Jeonghan comes striding in, hands stuffed in his black pants.

“I took care of the vengeful spirit. What are you looking at— _oh.”_ Jeonghan smirks when he finally sees what Seungcheol’s eyes are so fixated on. “Looks like he’s finally blooming. And for the kid that you chose, too.”

Seungcheol holds his head high, pride swelling in his chest, “What did I tell you about me being a deity?”

Jeonghan’s gaze softens, a fond smile tugging on his lips, “You did a good job. But, I’m worried however. Won’t he feel like he’s being betrayed again when he comes to know of Wonwoo and Mingyu in this lifetime? I’m sure they’re bound to meet sometime soon, with Junhui’s wish too.”

“Minghao will have to find a way around it somehow. He will need to learn to let go of his grudges. The kid has been suffering for way too long.”

They stay quiet, admiring the bud of the flower before Jeonghan speaks up again, “Junhui is saving Minghao again, huh? Just like last time.”

“I hope Junhui takes good care of Minghao. So that Minghao doesn’t end up getting hurt again.”

“What about us, Seungcheol? Do you reckon there was a lifetime where I was yours and you were mine?”

Seungcheol smiles endearingly, “There were never lifetimes for deities and reapers, Jeonghan ah. You’ve always been mine and I’ve always been yours since the very beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels a little rushed and kinda short by my standards but hope whoever that's reading this enjoys it!


	5. Camellia; longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there was never another for minghao. and then, a moon swallows up his night and sleep.

_And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

_I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)_

* * *

_Some time after the winter solstice make its presence known to Goryeo, Myungho knows the full moon is arriving when the darkness of the night drapes over the atmosphere, bringing with a man along to the seaside with him. Myungho waits patiently, keeping an ear on the oncoming acquainted sound of footsteps rustling among the dead leaves. However joyful he is, his loyal companion rests close by his leg, never leaving his side. Twenty-three years of living as a bandit has certainly made him out to be a man who is cautious of his surroundings, always._

_Myungho’s eyes catch the surface of the still water, where he sees a man looking back at him—long gone is the unkempt hair, replaced with long, silky smooth beautiful locks with faint smell of different petals of flowers. Gone are the torn, ragged clothes— Myungho is now cladded in a bright blue Hanbok. And then a small smile tugs at his lips when he sees the reflection in the water shows not only himself, but another man, standing right behind him._

_“Seo Myungho.”_

_Another rare small smile blossoms on Myungho’s lips, “Your Highness.”_

_“I have brought you something,” Prince Mingyu whispers, taking a hold of Myungho’s hand and opening his palm before placing something on it. “I had the craftsmen at the village carry out this favour for me, a gift for you regarding your success on becoming a gisaeng.”_

_A hairpin._

_∞_

_Myungho’s eyes expand, thoroughly alarmed with the Prince’s gesture, “Your Highness, I— I can’t possibly wear this around the palace! What would the people of the palace say when I’m just a mere gisaeng?” He rambles on, placing the hairpin back into the palm of the Prince._

_Prince Mingyu shushes him, brushing through Myungho’s hair with his daft fingers, and then taking the hairpin to place it in between Myungho’s long locks. “Nobody would know. I went to the village with Eunuch Hong only, he would never tell a soul.”_

_The hairpin is now in Myungho’s hair, and on Prince Mingyu’s lips is a satisfied beam. He then rummages through the pocket of his robe, revealing a flower when he opens the palm of his hand._

_Myungho quirks an eyebrow, “A daisy?”_

_“Yes, a chamomile,” Prince Mingyu closes what is left of the distance between them too, bringing up his right hand to tuck the flower behind Myungho’s ear, “It’s my birth flower. When you think of chamomiles, you think of me.”_

* * *

_“That gisaeng, how did he acquire such fine-looking hairpin?” The Prince of Baekje asks abruptly when he and his eunuch come to a halt in front of the pond, overlooking a group of gisaeng and court ladies tending the garden. “He would not have been able to purchase it, Your Highness. He was a bandit before he came here, however the crown prince seems to harbour some sort of adoration for that boy.”_

_The young prince of Baekje looks at his eunuch, intense and sharp gaze which immediately makes him cower in fear. “Watch what you’re saying. Do not associate His Highness with a mere gisaeng on the palace grounds.” He says lowly, eyes never leaving the figure of the boy with a shiny hairpin in the distance._

_“Search the gisaeng quarter tonight. Ask the people if they have lost anything. Who knows the bandit could’ve been taking away what’s not his. Old habits die hard after all.”_

* * *

Minghao sighs deeply again when his eyes follow the string. They land on the opposite corner of the meeting room where the other end of the red thread is attached to the pinky of a thin, pale hand. Minghao sucks in a breath, raising his head to meet the eyes of the girl who seems sullen, looking at the opened red pouch on top of the table. He then looks down at a still-shaking Junhui and winces.

Her name is Chengxiao. She is an extremely well-mannered girl, if not extremely shy. Minghao soon learns that she had been two years younger than Junhui when she had died single and alone. She has mentioned that while disappointed with the lack of love-life when she was alive, she would’ve much preferred to carry on to the afterlife without a companion, what more being married to a total stranger.

That, of course, had been her wish up until Junhui accidentally opened the red pouch, and have a red string suddenly attach itself around his pinky finger.

As such, circumstances find Minghao rounding up his whole team of management at 8BAR inside the meeting room, hoping beyond all hope that at least one of them would spark up an idea of remedying Junhui and Chengxiao’s little problem.

Joshua takes out porcelain cups from a cabinet and proceeds to pour them tea. “So,” he begins, sliding them their cups, “What is this sudden meeting about?”

Minghao sighs again, taking out the red pouch from his pocket and laying it on the table.

Jihoon perks up at the sight of it, “Is that what I think it is?”

“What do you know of them?”

Jihoon frowns, picking up the pouch to inspect it thoroughly. “Marriage pouches are, I think, made of bits and bobs of the dead and wishes of the undead. They are essentially bonded for eternity by ghost marriage, and that would mean…” Soonyoung glances momentarily at the red string around Junhui’s pinky, finishing off Jihoon’s sentence. “You’re going to be married to her, and then off to the afterlife you both go.”

“But that’s only permissible if it’s between a dead and an undead, no? Junhui is dead, no?” Seokmin questions, shifting his gaze back and forth between Junhui and Chengxiao. “Theoretically, since Junhui is dead, he wouldn’t be forced to go to the afterlife with her because he has the choice to leave whenever he deems fit—being at this hotel, right?”

Junhui looks at them with pleading eyes, holding up his pinky, accidentally tugging Chengxiao’s which results in a scowl from her. “Can’t we break the string?”

Soonyoung looks at him in surprise, “You can’t _break_ the bond. Once you open the pouch, you’ll be bonded and there’s no going back.”

Junhui waits for more, but none of the team said anything else. Finding it alarming that they offer no advice, Junhui says, “That’s it? Then what am I supposed to do?”

The team stays in silence until Minghao eventually shrugs, looking nonchalant. “I guess we will have to throw a wedding.”

Junhui scowls at Minghao’s joke, but the even the ever cheerful Seokmin doesn’t laugh and Minghao’s expression remains serious, no mischievous glint in his eyes. Then Junhui realizes the hotel owner hasn’t been joking all along, and extremely horrified by this, Junhui slaps Minghao’s arm.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

Junhui hisses, “We can’t throw a _wedding_!”

Minghao rubs his arm. “Why in the world not? Our hotel has a bouquet hall and we offer a wedding package, Jihoon and Soonyoung would know.”

Soonyoung nearly chokes on his tea, tapping his chest lightly to ease the burn in his throat. Jihoon rubs comforting circles on the housekeeper’s back, a disgusting scowl on his face. Had Junhui not be caught in this too deep of a shit deal, it would’ve piqued his interest, but right now his ass needs a saving.

“Mr. Xu,” Junhui pleads, “I can’t get married. I… have an unfinished business I—” his brain racks through memories of a tall boy with round glasses, “Is there anything else we can do?”

Minghao heaves a heavy sigh, “If we’re going by Seokmin’s theory, we should be fine. We’ll have a wedding and you’ll get a say on your departure date, because you’re still a guest here.”

Junhui almost beams in excitement at the possible solution, until Joshua slips back into the meeting room with a crestfallen smile on his face. “I just contacted the marriage officiant of the afterworld and they said the policies have changed this year.”

Minghao sucks in another sharp breath, dipping his head as a sign for Joshua to continue talking.

“When a dead marries another dead, it works the same way as the traditional ghost marriage—once Junhui is wedded to Miss Chengxiao, he will have to leave for the afterlife immediately without any compromise.”

Junhui feels his knees weakening at that, trying to catch Minghao’s averting gaze. “Minghao, I can’t—”

Minghao cuts him off, “Got it. Thanks, Joshua. You all can leave now, I have a few things to discuss with Junhui.”

The team nods, pushing their chairs backward carefully to leave the meeting room. Chengxiao does too, giving Junhui another sullen look before whispering, “I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess because of my family.” She gives them one last bow, the red string stretching longer with each step that she takes as she exits the room.

Minghao takes off his glasses, shutting his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I never should have taken you to search for the pouch.”

Junhui looks desperately to Minghao. “There has got to be something else we can do, right?”

Minghao’s expression turns sour. “We are but once human. Only the higher beings could cut through something like a string of fate.”

“What about Seungcheol? He’s a deity, isn’t he?”

_“No_ ,” Minghao interjects, “When you make a deal with Seungcheol, you have to be prepared to trade more than your life.”

The meeting room seems to fall into a bitter coldness under Minghao’s expression. “Tell me, Junhui,” he says softly, “What exactly are you willing to sacrifice? Seungcheol will search for you in all of your lives once you strike a deal with him.”

Faint memories of Wonwoo fill Junhui’s hazy mind. He searches hard for images of the boy that he’s slowly forgetting with more time he spends here. He knows he can never be fully at rest until Wonwoo can finally make peace with the ache of missing Junhui. Until Wonwoo no longer gets extreme anxiety when getting a phone call on rainy nights. Until Wonwoo can finally let go. Until then, he can never leave.

As much as Junhui tries to hold it in, the pain comes out like an uproar from his throat in the form of a silent scream. The beads of water start to fall down one after another, without a sign of stopping. The muffled sobs wrack against his chest.

Minghao wraps an arm around Junhui’s shoulders and pulls him close, gently rubbing his arm. Despite the initial hesitance, Minghao’s stomach flutters at the feeling of Junhui’s body sinking into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture.

Junhui sobs into Minghao’s chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his Balenciaga jacket. Minghao holds him in silence, rocking him awkwardly as his tears soak through the fabric covering his chest. A tiny lapse lets Junhui pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears.

“I’m willing to do anything,” Junhui collapses again, his howls of misery worsening. “I’m willing to help you to get the Soul Tree to bloom, if—if it means I can get out of this thing.”

Junhui rambles, but Minghao is not listening to any of it because he has never realized how… _pretty_ Junhui is, from such close distance. He has tousled light brown hair, which is thick and lustrous. His eyes are a mesmerizing deep brown, hooded eyelids and all. His face is strong and defined, and yet there is slight femininity too. His perfect lips, ripe for the kissing—

Heat creeps up Minghao’s cheeks when he remembers exactly how those perfect lips felt on his just a few hours ago. Minghao has had his fair share of kissing lips, lonely nights at the hotel spent made him visit generic bars of Seoul—picking up random people to kiss, to feel for something, for genuine human connection. The kisses were nothing more than just an act of planting a part of his body to others, always too sloppy, always tasting of cheap alcohol.

The brief kiss with Junhui had been different.

It wasn’t fireworks and his heart leaping out of his chest.

Minghao kissed Junhui. Soft and slow and the older mam had tasted like November, like hot chocolate on stormy evenings and crisp autumn air. It sent shivers down his back, and the unfamiliarity of it all almost makes Minghao crawl back into the safety net behind his high walls.

However, when he looks at Junhui’s tear stained face, and it’s at this moment that he knows the boy would be the end of him. “You’re a moon that takes away all my night and sleep, you know that?”

* * *

Strings of curses which consist every profanity known to the Korean language leave Minghao’s mouth, crouching down as he removes his leather shoes and places them neatly at the very end of the stair. He heaves another heavy sigh when he stands up and straightens his back, looking glumly at the old shrine in front of him.

Just as his right foot touches the wooden floor, a fluff of white rushes towards Minghao with its small feet. A smile is brought upon Minghao’s face, crouching down to pick up the white dog. He holds it close to his chest, kissing the top part of the dog’s head, just above its blue hair clip.

“Kkuma! Don’t go running off! Come back ins— oh? Minghao?”

Seungcheol appears at the front door, carrying knitting needles and a ball of yarn in his hands. He raises an eyebrow. “How rare of you to come visit my humble home.”

A scowl appears on Minghao’s face, giving Kkuma one last pet before setting her down. “You know damn well why I’m here.”

The deity just shrugs. “I don’t. Come in, I’ll make you some tea.”

With that, Minghao sits down cross legged on the wooden floor as Seungcheol rummages for cups in his kitchen, Kkuma sleeping peacefully near Minghao’s foot. He hasn’t stepped a foot inside the abandoned shrine uphill in such a long time, never finding it a necessity to drop by the deity who is the cause of his suffering.

Seungcheol comes back a few minutes later, two hands occupied with steaming cups. He pushes one in front of Minghao. “Is Junnie in trouble again?”

Minghao frowns. “Did you set him up for this?”

“You know, I don’t actually have a complete control over people’s fate. I open up the doors, one chooses what happens from then on.” Seungcheol says, taking a sip of his tea.

“Let me cut to the chase. You need to help him. He’s still not ready to leave for the afterlife, he’s got things he hasn’t done just yet.”

The twinkle in Seungcheol’s eyes returns. “Is it true, that he’s not ready to leave—or is it you who’s not ready to let go? Junnie has got you feeling some type of way after 1300 years?”

Another scowl. “You’re a deity, quit playing the cupid’s game. He’s an employee of 8BAR and if he leaves against his own accord, what would become of our establishment? So you gotta help him.”

Seungcheol tilts his head, a full bright smile on his lips. “Are you sure, Minghao? Are you sure it’s not because if he leaves, you’re going to feel lonely again when you’ve only starting to enjoy his company?”

Minghao slams his hand on the table, clearly unimpressed with Seungcheol’s assumption, and ready to leave. “Of fucking course you’re not gonna help me. More fool me for thinking that you would. I wouldn’t be stuck here for 1300 years if you had helped me. What was I expecting?”

“There you go again with all that self-pity.” Seungcheol shakes his head, standing up and walking towards one of the cabinets in the living room. He pulls open the drawer, rummaging through it and revealing a pair of scissors. He pushes the scissors across the table. “Stop denying your heart for once, Minghao. Now run along, before it reaches midnight.”

Minghao says nothing, snatching the scissors, getting up on his feet faster than a lightning, clumsily putting on his shoes and scurrying away, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Seungcheol shakes his head again, picking up Kkuma. “He must really like Junnie, huh? I’ve never seen him act like that in 1300 years, right Kkuma-yah?”

* * *

The columbarium is quiet on weekend, saves for a few families on the lower floor of the building. Wonwoo shakily steps a foot inside the building, right hand shakily holding a small bouquet of roses and a bag in his left. Gathering his courage, Wonwoo makes his way toward the one niche at the very end.

Inside the niche rests a framed photograph of Junhui—smiling brightly into the camera, his favourite novel, and a phone that’s chipped around the edges. Wonwoo casts a sad smile, sticking the bouquet of roses on the glass surface of the niche. He then takes out a food container out of his tote bag, removing the lid to reveal its content of spicy soup. Sticking the chopsticks upright into the bowl of rice, Wonwoo smiles grimly again at the smiling photo of Junhui.

He proceeds to pour the watermelon juice into two paper cups. He raises the cup before carefully taking a sip, “My Moon Junnie, who really likes spicy food, I brought you some today. Enjoy.”

The first tear breaks through, rolling down his cheek, but Wonwoo wipes it away quickly. He couldn’t let Junhui see him like this. He rests his palm on the glass cover of the niche.

There is no warmth of Junhui’s touch against his palm.

There is no Junhui pretending to nibble at his fingertips.

There is still the world—a world without Junhui in it, and Wonwoo is learning to be okay with it.

Giving Junhui’s smiling photograph one last look, Wonwoo turns on his heels. “It was really nice seeing you today, Junnie. See you again in my dreams.”

When he exits the building, Wonwoo immediately frowns when he sees the darkening skies, looking heavy with the downpour that it holds. Wonwoo pulls the black hoodie over his saturated form as he saunters in the soft rain that has started to hit the grounds of earth, small pellets of water spitting on his hands. Through one of the pools of rainwater, Wonwoo manages to reach the bus stop across the building.

He shifts uncomfortably, growing weary when the raindrops have not subsided, but only proceeding to pour and pour. He has stopped favouring rainy days since _then._ The broken yellow umbrella tucked far away inside his closet since _then_.

Wonwoo grows even more uncomfortable when speeding cars pass by the bus stop, tapping his feet impatiently on the rain soaked floor. Wonwoo feels the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension grows in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the phone call on a rainy night a year ago.

His breathing becomes more rapid, more shallow. In these moments before his personal hurricane, he understands the junkies—wanting to consume to stop the primal urge to flee. His thoughts are accelerating inside his head. Wonwoo wants them to slow down so he can breathe but they won’t.

He feels so sick.

Blackness.

Creeping blackness.

The bus stop is spinning.

The world is caving in. The lack of oxygen is causing the edges of his sight to go dark.

_“He has not committed any sins! Spare him with your kindness, Your Highness!”_ _The man with a hairpin tucked in his hair had screamed, squirming to get out of the royal guards’ choking hold. The downpour was heavy, the man’s tears indistinguishable from the beads of water on his face._

_The crown prince refused to look at him, eyes cold and hard on the boy in white robes in the center of the palace ground. The boy had thick rope wrapped around his neck, standing on a platform, smiling sadly at the man who was begging for his life to be spared._

_The prince of Baekje says in a flat voice. “Why should I trust the words of a bandit? This gisaeng was found guilty of stealing the possessions of the noblemen. Execute him!”_

_The platform opened, and the boy fell right through it._

_“Hwang Renjun!”_

_“Hey.”_

_“Hey, stay with me.”_

“Hey.”

Wonwoo gasps, awoken from his imagination. His mouth hangs wide open and he fights to swallow down a rigged breath, eyes frantically looking for the source of the voice that spiraled him out of the panic attack. He looks to his side and sees a man holding a yellow umbrella, looking at him in genuine concern. Wonwoo squints his eyes to make out the blurry features of the man.

Tall.

Tanned skin.

Handsome face.

_“I live around here anyway. You can always pay me back some other day. I’m Kim Mingyu, what’s your name?”_

Wonwoo’s mouth hangs wide open again when he’s finally realized it’s the guy who had saved him from embarrassment the other day. His words come out in stutters. “Kim Mingyu? Oh my God, I’m such a mess each time I run into you, I—”

“Hey,” Mingyu shushes him with a hand placed on his shoulder. “Easy. You were seconds away from spiraling into a bad panic attack. I did what I had to do. You okay now?”

Wonwoo nods, and Mingyu smiles softly. “Why don’t I take you home? You have no umbrella, and mine is big enough for two people anyway.”

* * *

Junhui stares blankly at the red string warped around his pinky, and lets a heavy sigh escape his mouth. He is seated alone in the bouquet hall that had been specially transformed into a wedding space. He finds it funny how during his lifetime, he had never found it a need to be officially wedded to Wonwoo. They both didn’t think that not being wedded to each other didn’t mean that they loved any less.

Wedding isn’t a gauge to measure one’s loyalty to their beloved.

Yet, here he is, about to be married in the afterworld and vanish from earth to the afterlife.

How contradicting.

Lost in his thoughts, Junhui didn’t realize it when the door finally opens, revealing Chengxiao in a white wedding dress, a veil on top of her head—

A scene flashes before Junhui’s eyes. A person entering a strange looking chamber, and another person with a red veil draped over their head, grabbing the hilt of their sword.

“We shall begin the ceremony in 15 minutes. Is that alright to you both?” Joshua’s gentle voice snaps Junhui out of his trance.

Chengxiao nods absentmindedly. Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Seokmin trailing behind her, the youngest looking worried for Junhui. Junhui cranes his neck around the room, trying to spot the figure of the expensive looking hotel owner.

“Where’s Minghao?”

“He has some duties to attend to, so it’ll be just us tonight.” Joshua explains.

Once the 15 minutes are up, Joshua clears his throat to speak again. “Right, so what needs to be done for the two of you to be officially wedded is a kiss. Whenever you both are ready, you may go ahead.”

Junhui gulps visibly in his throat when he comes face to face with Chengxiao. When she finally lifts up her veil, Junhui agrees that she’s definitely a beautiful lady, porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, full eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

Shakily, Junhui reaches out to cradle her face in his hands and he slowly closes the distance between them. They’re so close that Junhui can smell Chengxiao’s perfume on him—it’s a sweet smell, like apples and candies. It’s—but it’s not chamomiles.

Junhui closes his eyes, braces himself mentally for the fact that he has to leave the place right after the kiss happens. Junhui moves closer—

The door to the bouquet hall open, hurried fast paced footsteps stomping on the marbled floor. When Junhui opens his eyes, he sees a disheveled Minghao, sweat sheened face, chest rising rapidly to catch a breath. Junhui catches the shiny tool Minghao has in his hand.

“You’re not getting married. Not without my permission.” He says in his usual grumpy voice.

And then, he snips the string, severing through the red string that’s connecting Junhui’s pinky with Chengxiao’s, the string falling limply.

* * *

“Thank you so much for going through such trouble for me.” Chengxiao bows repeatedly at Minghao when she stands outside the limousine at the tunnel to afterlife. “I’m so sorry for what I had done.” She says apologetically to Junhui who just brushes it off with a smile.

“It wasn’t your fault! And it’s all thanks to Mr. Xu that we’re both saved.” Junhui nudges Minghao’s rib playfully, earning another groan and a glare from the hotel owner.

Jeonghan opens the door to the limousine, gesturing for Chengxiao to enter. When he closes the door, he has a sly smile on his face as he looks at Minghao and Junhui. “Seungcheol must really adore Junnie to give you the scissors.”

Before Minghao could retaliate in response, Jeonghan hops into the driver’s seat, driving off into the dark tunnel which would take Chengxiao to the inter-world bridge at the Sanzu river. Once the limousine disappears from the sight, Junhui turns to face Minghao.

“It makes me feel lonely when I see the guest off.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “That’s because you won’t see be seeing them again.”

A comfortable silence fills the place before Minghao abruptly speaks. “You’re adapting well, Moon Junhui.” The words come out awkward. “Are you still dreaming of me?”

Junhui says nothing, but his memories take him to the scene that flashed before his eyes earlier. He remembers seeing two people, one entering the strange room, and another one covered by a red veil, holding a sword.

Minghao puts his hands on Junhui’s broad shoulders. “Take care of me in your dreams, and then maybe you can see me off too. That’s what Seungcheol wants anyway.”

He closes the distance between them until Junhui can smell chamomiles again. “You have to see me off, because I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i appreciate the kudos and comments that people leave for this humble work of mine so much ;_;


	6. Asphodel; my regrets follow you to the grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it is brought upon minghao’s memories of how love is so short, and forgetting is so long.

_We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all these things:_

_It was my destiny to love and say goodbye._

* * *

When nighttime drapes over 8BAR again, the lobby finds itself bustling with people. Some have drinks in hand, some are just lounging around on the sofas. Junhui falls in neither of the categories when the familiar scent of incense being lit greeted his nose. The scent was pulling him in, signifying that somebody came by his resting place at the columbarium.

He pushes his way through the busy crowd, avoiding coming in contact with the people who are visibly tipsy, failing to coordinate their limbs and Junhui doesn’t need to have champagne spilled on his favourite oversized pastel purple hoodie on top of all the trouble he has gone through at 8BAR so far.

Sighing in relief once he made it through the lobby without inflicting chaos upon himself, Junhui confidently takes a stride out of the common space to get to the elevator. Expecting to be the only one using the elevator, Junhui is mildly surprised when he is greeted with the back view of a tall, lean man cladded in a black denim jacket and a pair of sunglasses resting on the back of his reddish brown hair.

Said man turns around on, the rubber sole of his black high cut converse squeaking on the marble tile. He greets Junhui. “Where are you going?”

Junhui raises his eyebrow in skepticism at the hotel owner’s sudden interest in his whereabouts. “I know I owe you a lot, but why are you suddenly interested in keeping tabs on me?”

Minghao removes the sunglasses from the back of his head and finally puts it on properly. Peeking through the lenses of the sunglasses, he replies. “Because trouble seems to follow where you go. Seriously, you breathe and misfortune happens, Moon Junhui.” His index finger is already pressing the button on the wall of the elevator. “Let me come with you.”

“It really isn’t necessary. I can take care of myse—” Junhui’s voice is cut off by the loud sound of the bell ringing, indicating that elevator has arrived. The door opens, and Minghao steps inside, a smug smile of victory on his face as he gestures for Junhui to get inside as well. “Come in.”

Junhui crosses his arms, huffing in annoyance. “I’m headed to my columbarium. Somebody laid out a meal for me, I think.”

“What car do you feel like riding tonight? Tesla?”

Junhui frowns. “Can’t we like teleport or something? I thought ghosts were supposed to have supernatural abilities, but I’m so fucking hopeless.”

“Probably not you, but I can teleport.”

Junhui beams, but then he thinks of all the luxury cars Minghao has stowed away in his garage. “Then why do you own so many cars?”

“Because they’re pretty.”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “Can you teleport other people too?”

“I can.” Minghao looks at him warily. “Why?”

“Oh. Just asking.” Junhui gets ready to exit the elevator.

“You want me to teleport you to the columbarium?”

“Fuck yes!” Junhui brightens up immediately, not even trying to conceal his excitement at this point.

“Some people pass out from it.” Minghao licks his lips. “But I can take you to the columbarium if you’d like.”

“For real? You’d do that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“My body is super ready! Take me now!”

Minghao looks incredibly flustered for some reason. “You need to hold my hand, or my arm, whichever one works for you.”

Junhui nods, stepping closer to fiddle with Minghao’s finger before sliding his palm into the hotel owner’s. Junhui notes how clammy and cold his hands are, contrasting Junhui’s warm ones.

“You ready?” Minghao squeezes Junhui’s hand reassuringly, probably picking up the nervousness that Junhui harbours. Junhui nods nervously, scooting closer to Minghao’s side and his free hand curling into the fabric of Minghao’s jacket.

“Yeah.”

Minghao smirks devilishly, and then all the air gets knocked out of Junhui’s lungs.

All of it happens over the span of less than a second. Junhui shuts his eyes tightly and he feels like throwing up, like when one goes down the steep drop on a rollercoaster, but make it ten thousand times worse.

He lands heavily on the floor of the columbarium the next moment, knees buckling weakly under his weight but Minghao’s reflexes are quicker to grab his arm and steady him. Junhui gags a little and feels dizzy, losing track of his orientation.

“You okay there?” Minghao’s voice is soft and gentle. “Just breathe.”

Junhui groans, blinking his eyes open. There are a few dark dancing around his vision before he can start making out the familiar physique of the hotel owner and his surroundings. “Ugh.”

“You’re doing great.” Minghao mumbles.

“That was really cool, the coolest thing ever!” Junhui beams in excitement now that he no longer feels like dying.

Minghao chuckles, giving Junhui’s arm a gentle squeeze before letting it go.

The duo is quiet when they walk towards Junhui’s niche, the excitement colouring his face earlier slowly dissipating when his eyes fall upon the meal laid out on the small table.

“Looks like somebody did come by.” Minghao comments absentmindedly, inspecting the flower bouquet on the glass cover. Quietly, he sticks on his own bouquet of yellow tulips.

Junhui’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

Minghao puts his index finger on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret. “Perks of being 1300 years old.”

Junhui shrugs before sitting down in front of the small table. “Anyway, yeah. My boyfriend—then boyfriend, he came by earlier.” He says, noting the fresh bouquet of roses.

“Do you miss him?”

“I do.” Junhui keeps quiet for a while, sifting through his memories to find the silhouette of the featureless man in his dreams that made Minghao smile, dimple and all. “You would know what it’s like to miss somebody, right?”

Minghao glances momentarily at Junhui, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ve walked the earth for 1300 years. People have come and gone. Missing somebody isn’t a thing when you already know people will leave.”

Junhui wants to retaliate.

Wants to ask if Minghao misses the man in his dream.

Wants to tell him missing someone isn’t a sign of weakness—that one can love, but they can never love somebody as much as they can miss them.

Junhui chooses to say nothing, taking in a waft of the smell of the food. When he feels his stomach filling up, he whispers quietly. “Thank you for the meal. I ate well.” He gives one last look at the photo of himself smiling brightly, returning the smile with one that lacks mirth before walking away and ahead of Minghao.

The hotel owner jogs up next to Junhui. “I’m craving for milk tea. There’s one store down the street. Let’s go.”

Junhui glares at him. “You can ask Soonyoung to get it from the kitchen team. There’s probably a long line for it and you’re going to throw a hissy fit.”

Minghao shakes his head aggressively. “It’s different. We have to get the one from the store.”

Junhui shrugs, eventually giving Minghao his way. They walk side by side to the store, cold night air breezing through their hair. Junhui doesn’t notice it, too busy looking ahead of him when the corners of Minghao’s lips twist into a small smile when he realizes his and Junhui’s footsteps match.

Minghao’s gaze then falls on Junhui’s hand, slightly peeking out of the oversized sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but Minghao reaches out to hold it, retracting his hand quickly when reality washes over him. He notices however, the two shadows on the concrete of the road.

“Hey, Junhui. Let’s take a photo.” 

Junhui’s step comes to a halt. “Are you kidding? I’m a ghost. Can you even see me on camera?” He questions.

Minghao fishes for his phone hidden deep inside his black skinny jeans, ignoring Junhui’s word and clicking away to the camera app. “Why do you think there are videos of instances where a shadow can be seen despite there’s no one there on the internet?” He smiles, satisfied when he points his phone to the concrete and there are indeed two shadows.

“Oh! I’m in the photo!” Junhui says ecstatically, waving his hands in amusement when he sees his shadows doing the same through Minghao’s phone screen.

“1, 2, 3!”

Minghao counts down, clicking the shutter to snap a picture just in time when Junhui lifts up his left arm in the air, pulling a peace sign. Minghao opens the camera roll, and immediately Junhui bursts into laughter at the outcome of their first picture together.

Junhui laughs. Shoulders shaking mouth wide open, eyes crinkling.

Junhui’s laughter rings in Minghao’s ears, and in that moment, Minghao finally understands Sonnet 18. He would compare Junhui to a summer’s day, but the man is more lovely and more moderate.

For a moment, Minghao feels the wind in his hair, and chamomile flowers coming up to his knees. But the figure in front of him isn’t the tall, strong, tanned physique of a crown prince who reigned the fate of Goryeo.

This is the man who has caused him more trouble than good ever since he stepped inside 8BAR. This is the man whom Minghao had to go to Seungcheol to beg for help. This is the man that’s strangely making Minghao feel things he hasn’t felt in 1300 years.

Minghao is snapped out of his trance when Junhui stops laughing, pointing his index finger at the milk tea store, gasping in shock. Minghao follows the direction of his finger, seeing a man sitting on the bench outside the store.

“Oh? That’s Wonwoo, my then boyfriend.”

He squints up at the figure, and then his face freezes as he recognizes the sharp feline like eyes.

Prince of Baekje, Jeon Wonwoo, reborn.

Seeing the sight of the prince triggers a slew of memories to flood Minghao’s mind.

Myungho’s first encounter with the crown prince and the prince of Baekje.

Myungho being held by a circle of royal guards pointing their swords at him, his flask shattering on the ground.

The crown prince and the prince in their red wedding garbs, smiling at each other.

A rope around Renjun’s neck.

Myungho tearfully pushing through a crowd, something sharp crushed in his fist, drawing blood from his palm.

Minghao’s gaze darkens as he watches in horror when the reborn prince of Baekje cheerfully smiles at his phone screen. Hot, angry tears escape when he realizes the true intention of Seungcheol making him cross path with Junhui, and he also realizes that the deity never planned on letting him pass on in peace.

He clenches his two fists into tight balls, knuckles white from the seething anger, infuriated by Wonwoo’s smile. While Minghao spent all his life being locked up at a place he doesn’t want to be, the prince has been reborn and seems happy about it too.

“What a cruel twist of fate.” He mutters lowly, cold fury burning in his eyes. Minghao concentrates on his surroundings, collecting the wind around him and transferring all of his energy into it—he kicks up the supernatural wind into Wonwoo’s direction, sending the man out of his seat onto the sidewalk.

Junhui looks at Minghao in shock. “What just hap—”

“Go help him, or something, I don’t care. That’s your job anyway.” Minghao cuts him off coldly, a glimmer of gold burning in his eyes.

Confused, Junhui’s first instinct to help Wonwoo up kicks in. He rushes towards the boy but halfway through, the decision making part of Junhui’s brain tells him he’s a ghost and he can’t help Wonwoo no matter how good his intentions are. So Junhui turns around only to find that Minghao has disappeared, teleporting away.

With strings of profanities escaping his lips, Junhui runs on his two feet back to the hotel.

* * *

Mingyu steps out of the bubble tea store, two cups of milk tea in hand and a smile on his face. A wave of surprise greets him when he sees Wonwoo groaning, falling on his butt on the sidewalk. With a quick speed, Mingyu sets the milk tea on the bench to help the other guy up.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Mingyu holds out his left arm, concern lacing his words.

Wonwoo accepts Mingyu’s arm gladly, pulling himself up and brushing away the dust on the back of his sweatpants. He just laughs softly when he’s finally at an eye level with Mingyu. “I really think I should go see a shaman to cleanse away my bad luck. I felt a strong gust of wind passing by and I fell out of the bench!”

Mingyu frowns. “That’s strange. I don’t remember the forecast informing about strong winds.” He sits down on the bench, prompting Wonwoo to do it too. “You should keep salt around, I’ve heard that salt wards away evil spirits. Don’t be alone too, especially at night.”

Wonwoo laughs again. “That’s what my grandma said too! Probably karma serving me right from my past life.” He holds out his hand, brandishing the red bracelet tied around his wrist. “My grandma made me wear this. She says it would protect me from the devils.”

“I’m glad she left something useful for you.” Mingyu replies with a grin, handing Wonwoo a cup of milk tea while sipping on his.

Wonwoo bites his lips nervously. “I didn’t think I would be going out after visiting the columbarium so I didn’t bring my wallet with me…”

Mingyu brushes him off, flashing a huge smile, canines and all. “If you forgetting your wallet means I get to see you more, its’s fine—no, it’s more than fine.

* * *

“I didn’t expect you to come around after our last meeting. Is my kid finally missing me?” Seungcheol teases, holding Kkuma in his embrace as he greets Minghao by the door to his home.

Minghao doesn’t return the tease with a snarl reply, just staring idly at the deity. “I met him.” He says in a whisper. “I met Jeon Wonwoo. And he was Moon Junhui’s lover.”

Something flashes in Seungcheol’s twinkling eyes, letting Kkuma go. He sits on one of the stone steps, patting the space next to him. Minghao settles down on the seat next to Seungcheol, refusing to look at the deity—he looks at the moon instead.

“I regret not finding him sooner. Funny how I met him around the same time I met Renjun, and now that Junhui’s around, you cross my path with him again.” Minghao says brokenly. “Enough is enough, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “All this while you’ve been frozen in time, Wonwoo has lived countless lives and he’s finally reincarnated as a human.” His tone turns a notch softer. “Let it go, Minghao. You’re only meeting him due to the connection you had in the past.”

The cold fury burns in Minghao’s eyes again, glistening with angry tears. “Let it go? He took away the only friend I had. My friend died because of me, and you’re telling me to let it go?”

Seungcheol smiles sadly at the boy whom he has been silently taking care of for the past 1300 years. “While you’re hurting from the past, Wonwoo doesn’t even know who you are.”

Minghao looks up at the night sky again, and at the moon. Then realization hits him. “You make me meet Jeon Wonwoo through Moon Junhui so that I wouldn’t harm him and pass on peacefully.”

* * *

Junhui pushes through the crowd again, which has settled down quite a bit now that the clock hand is striking 4 a.m. His eyes busily scan around the lobby for a lanky figure—near the foot of the staircase, around the lounge area, yet all his effort is futile. He tried asking the staffs around Minghao’s office too, and their replies put down Junhui’s hope of seeing the hotel owner.

Spotting the three long term stay guests he had met on his first day at 8BAR near the bar, Junhui decides to approach them for one last spurt of finding Minghao. Seungkwan spots him first, waving his hand immediately to signal for Junhui to come over.

Crouching down while holding to his kneecaps and out of breath, Junhui asks the trio in between breaths. “Has anyone seen Minghao?”

“I last saw him a few hours ago when he left.” Chan answers, knitting his eyebrows to concentrate. “Why do you ask?”

“We went out together for a… an errand earlier, but he got mad and left me so suddenly.” Junhui finally says after catching some breaths.

Vernon hums in response. “Just let him be. It’s probably his usual moodiness.”

Seungkwan nods along. “He’ll come back. It’s not like he can leave this place anyway.”

As soon as Seungkwan finishes his sentence, Chan and Vernon slap both of his arms, their eyes growing wide. Seungkwan gasps and puts a hand to cover his mouth, realizing his blunder a little too late. Junhui eyes them, suspicious growing wider at their reaction.

“Why can’t he leave this place?”

Chan glares at Seungkwan who’s looking apologetic at the slip of words he caused. He then proceeds to glance around the area before speaking in a hushed tone. “Don’t tell anyone this, but Minghao’s punishment will follow him wherever he goes. He has tried running away from this place before, but he failed each time.”

Vernon scoots closer to Junhui, adding to the story. “When Minghao leaves the hotel for more than a day, the Soul Tree will follow him and that’s why he must always return.”

“Just what did he do to be trapped here with such punishment?”

Seungkwan hugs his body, shrugging. “I’ve heard that Minghao nearly became an evil spirit, but Seungcheol bound him to this hotel instead.”

“Because it’s a prison, but this hotel also protects him from that fate.” Chan finishes the story with a shiver.

* * *

It’s nearing 5 a.m. and Junhui is feeling restless when the hotel owner has yet to return. If what the trio said had been true, Minghao should be returning in an hour. Running on his worn out shoes, Junhui goes down the elevator to wait for Minghao at the front desk.

Whilst alone, Junhui lets the scene from earlier play on the back of his mind. He frowns lightly at how angry Minghao had been when they encountered Wonwoo. “Do they know each other?” He asks himself, leaning his head against wall of the elevator.

He shuts his eyes tight, trying to remember all of Wonwoo’s friends. “I would’ve known his friends though…” Junhui crosses his arms across his chest, trying to think up of other possibilities.

Junhui doesn’t think he’s ever seen Minghao in such state before. The man is always smirking, or scowling, at most. Never anger, though. Never fires of fury and hatred in his golden eyes. The hotel owner has always been cold and stoic, but he’s never shown his rage before.

The bell of the elevator chimes, bringing Junhui out of his trance. When the door to the elevator opens, through the narrow gap Junhui can see a glimmer of golden irises. “Where did you go? I’ve been searching for you!”

Minghao raises an eyebrow, ignoring the other mand and proceeding to step into the elevator. The ride back up is silent for a couple of seconds.

Junhui decides to try again. “Hey. Where were you?”

Minghao snaps. “Fine—I pushed him. I knocked him down with a wind, alright?”

Junhui is taken by surprise at Minghao’s sudden raised voice. “He… he’s fine. He didn’t sustain any injuries.”

Junhui’s reply prompts more flares for Minghao as he snaps again, clenching his fists. “Why aren’t you asking me why I did it? Why aren’t you reprimanding me? He was your lover, wasn’t he?”

Junhui’s voice softens when he grasps that he can’t fight fire with fire. “I don’t know what’s been keeping you here for 1300 years, I don’t. But what I do know is my dreams have only showed me a man in love.”

Minghao is rendered speechless, chest heaving up and down with residual spurts of anger. He quickly returns to his prickly façade, knowing that he’s entering dangerous waters.

“Where have you been, Minghao?”

The hotel owner grumbles a reply. “I got caught up with a dance party and a ceremonial feast near the memorial hall.”

Junhui’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Why didn’t you let me come along? I want to attend a ghost dance party too!”

“It’s really no different from human dance party. And your alcohol tolerance is shit anyway.”

Junhui hides a smile when he realizes that Minghao is back to his sarcastic self. Instead, he feigns annoyance in the form of huffing. “If there’s anything entertaining next time, we’ll do it together. It’s always better to share nice experiences, instead of getting caught up with trouble all the time.”

Before Minghao can have a say, Junhui continues with a bright smile, even brighter than the one in his niche. “I don’t care if this place is a prison or a fence to you. I’ll be here with you.”

* * *

Seokmin gulps nervously as he waits outside of the apartment complex for a person Minghao had shown from his phone earlier. The hotel owner rarely asks him for favours outside of the hotel, always opting for the dreamily reliable hotel manager instead. But Seokmin couldn’t refuse when Minghao had offer him a limousine to the afterlife if he manages to perform this task well.

So here Seokmin is, using up his ability to make himself visible to the human naked eye. He chews on his bottom lip nervously when he sees the long awaited person approaching the entrance of the apartment complex. Putting on his best acting skill, Seokmin cries out.

“Oh dear! What is this ominous energy that I’m sensing from you?”

The man stops in his tracks, ears perking up in interest.

Seokmin takes that as a sign to continue. “My dear… you have three… no, four evil spirits trailing behind you? How is your life not a painful affair?”

Seokmin definitely has the man’s interest now. His eyes growing wide, moving closer to Seokmin. “You… you can the spirits on me?”

The bellboy fakes a shiver, shakily pointing to the back of the man before nodding slowly. “If you don’t get rid of them soon… your life will be a living hell.”

“Do you know of a way to get rid of them?” Desperation is clear in the man’s voice going as far as shaking Seokmin’s shoulders.

“That is out of my power, but…” Seokmin fishes for a business card from his front pocket, handing the card to the man. “If you come to this place near midnight, there is a man there who can help you.”

The man reaches out his hand to accept the card, a red bracelet clasped around his wrist shining under the moonlight. He whispers slowly to himself, “8BAR…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for showing love to this story. and also, this fic is unbeta-ed and english isnt my first language so please ignore any mistakes– i cant be bothered to correct them HAHA


	7. Petunia; resentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you must erase all memories of me, i'm poison.

_Bitter love, a violet with its crown of thorns in a thicket of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?_

* * *

8BAR finds itself being greeted by the darkness of the nighttime again, the lobby of the establishment bustling busily with guests all around the area. Junhui sits on one of the tall chairs near the island, watching as Jihoon mixes and slushes around the strange concoctions behind the counter, Soonyoung observing with unmasked pure adoration held in his gaze.

Trying his luck, Junhui tears his gaze away from the duo and searches hopefully through the crowd, only to be met with disappointment when he can’t seem to locate the skinny build with brown hair and oversized fancy coat that always seems to eat his physique whole. He pretends not to be disappointed when he gets back to his watered-down watermelon juice, his heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach—the higher you place your hopes, the further your heart drops.

The night is uneventful, too uneventful, almost like the calm before a huge storm. That is, until the bellboy shuffles into the lobby, hands tucked away in the front pockets of his vest, appearing to be extremely distressed and contrasting his usual cheerful demeanor. Junhui stops sipping on his watermelon juice, watching with great interest at the boy’s strange overnight change in behaviour—almost as if something is tugging at his conscience, and he’s pacing back and forth out of guilt.

Seokmin moves towards the bar island, pulling the chair next to Junhui and speaking with a shaky voice. “Can I please get a glass of beer?”

Seokmin’s unusual request earns a slight raised eyebrow from Jihoon. “Beer? Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

Soonyoung turns to look at the boy, sipping on his non-alcoholic beverage slowly before interrogating. “You shouldn’t even be upstairs right now. Did you leave the front desk unattended?” Visible panic comes across Seokmin’s eyes as he flails around like a fish out of water, trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he’s not carrying out his daily task as the bellboy.

“That’s right, Seokminnie. Is there something wrong?” Joshua’s sudden gentle voice startles Seokmin, nearly jumping out of his seat when the manager places his hand on his shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. Seokmin is taken aback, eyes growing wide as saucepans and blushing deeply at Joshua’s gesture.

Junhui stirs his drink, noticing the slight change in air, turning to the other duo to enquire. “Are they dating?”

Soonyoung sighs. “They are, but they don’t know that yet. Hopeless, these two.”

Jihoon continues sighing, wiping the surface of the counter down and giving the couple a glance. “These two have been dancing around each other for years, everyone but them knows that. I’m getting tired of it!”

Junhui gives his head a slight tilt, asking innocently. “Much like you two?”

The duo grows flustered, Jihoon wiping down the counter aggressively while Soonyoung almost chokes on his drink again.

“I… I don’t know if I did the right thing.” Seokmin fidgets in his seat, refusing to look up at the four pairs of watchful eyes because guilt is crawling on his skin, bringing shame to the better side of himself. “What did you do? Why aren’t you downstairs taking care of the guests?” Joshua frowns lightly, concern written all over his sweet face.

Seokmin gulps nervously. “That… that’s because Mr. Xu asked me to not accept any guests and keep the ground floor vacant tonight because… because he has a special guest tonight.” He pauses, looking up at Joshua and Junhui.

“I wasn’t informed of this?” Joshua’s face draws more confusion at the new intake of information.

Seokmin keeps his mouth shushed for a while, dilly dallying with hesitance before he sighs deeply, as if to let go of the guilt that’s been weighing over him heavily. “A few nights ago, Mr. Xu asked me to do a strange favour for him. He also requested me to not tell Joshua or Junnie too.”

“He did? That is super strange of him. What did he ask you to do?” Joshua urges.

“He… he told me to bring over a human named Jeon Wonwoo.”

Junhui’s blood runs cold at the mention of the name, his mind flashing him the ruckus Minghao had caused a few nights ago, and the wrath that Minghao’s eyes held when he encountered Wonwoo.

It’s here.

The storm is here.

* * *

Wonwoo sits quietly on the leather backseat of the taxi, looking out into the nighttime scenery as the taxi driver cruises smoothly along the nearly empty streets of Gangnam to get to the location that Wonwoo had provided him with. Immersing himself with music, Wonwoo only realizes that he has reached his destination when the taxi comes to a complete stop next to a familiar street.

He gets off the taxi, thanking the driver before frowning in puzzlement when he sees the old-fashioned building behind the tall metal gates. Looking around his surroundings, Wonwoo knows he has walked down the street many times before but strangely enough, he had never noticed the establishment beyond the tall gates. He shakes off his skepticism and climbs up the stairs, pushing through the tall gates which open up to a rundown structure covered in vines and other wild plants growing on its walls.

Wonwoo rummages through the front pocket of his hoodie for the business card that he had acquired from the awkward man he met a couple of nights ago in front of his apartment complex. Reading the name that is written on the card, Wonwoo squints to read the LED sign on top of the entrance door which is not working properly, only lighting up a couple of alphabets.

“8BAR…” He whispers slowly to himself, looking at the business card and then back again at the sign. “I guess it is the right place.”

Shrugging off the lingering growing suspicion of the building, Wonwoo exerts force to push the door of the building, the bells above it chiming. The lack of bright lighting makes it hard for him to assess the space, but Wonwoo can make out a figure standing a few feet away from him by the front desk. When his eyesight has adjusted to the dim lighting, Wonwoo finally sees the figure of the man in front of him.

“Hi, uh… I was told that someone here can get rid of ghosts?” Wonwoo tries hesitantly.

The man doesn’t give any form of response initially, only walking up to Wonwoo in complete silence. When he gets close enough, the moonlight that peeks through the windows of the front desk reveal his features. A young man, about the same age as Wonwoo, or slightly younger—dressed in a large brown trench coat, smiling at Wonwoo.

“Welcome to 8BAR. I’ve been waiting for you arrival for quite some time now.” The man greets Wonwoo in a chilling politeness, enough to send a couple of shivers down his spine. He puts his hand over his chest, giving his head a little dip before introducing himself. “I’m Xu Minghao, the owner of this place.”

Xu Minghao.

_Xu Minghao._

Wonwoo’s mind is fuzzy with memories. The name sounds awfully familiar to him, despite not knowing any Xu Minghao’s in his life, as if he had he heard the name before—perhaps in another lifetime.

_“Please. I beg of you, my prince, let Seo Myungho go. He’s a gisaeng—please send him to the land of faraway, but do not take his life!”_

_“I suggest you quit this, your Highness. What would the ministers say if a word goes out you’re associated with a gisaeng—much more one that used to be a bandit? He must be executed if you wish to not bring shame to the royal family.”_

Wonwoo snaps out of the little trance, making sense of his environment. “So… what, what is this place? Are you a shaman?”

Minghao smiles. “It’s a hotel, and I’m not a shaman. I’m just… talented in dealing with ghosts and spirits, one could say.”

“A hotel? Where is everybody then? Why is it so empty?” Wonwoo laughs awkwardly at the lack of people in the so called hotel.

The hotel owner smiles even more, corners of his lips slightly turning up as he clarifies that the hotel isn’t empty. “It’s not empty. You just can’t see the people because of that.” He says, pointing to the red bracelet around Wonwoo’s wrist.

As if drawn by a supernatural force, Wonwoo contemplates. “Can I see things if I take this off?”

Minghao gives a noncommittal shrug, holding out his palm as Wonwoo unclasps the bracelet and places it inside his hand. Minghao closes his fist around it, dissolving the bracelet into gold dust before bringing up his free hand, gesturing to the door at the end of the concierge. “Let’s go to the lobby, shall we?”

When the twin door is opened, it reveals a lobby. The floor is tiled in fine marble, which makes every step echo. A chandelier dances across the luxurious lobby. Exquisite paintings hang from the rich, red walls. Even the door hinges are engraved with swirls and elegant designs. Wonwoo gapes at the splendid sight.

Before he can even utter words of compliments, a group of performers start to appear in the middle of lobby— bringing a big smile of Wonwoo’s face, as he claps along to them, completely forgetting why he is even here in the first place.

Minghao stands behind the man, false smile slipping off his face, the cold fury burning in his eyes again at how brightly Wonwoo smiles. “You don’t deserve to smile so brightly after what you’d done, prince of Baekje.” He mutters lowly, clenching his fists tightly when he recalls the image of his only friend smiling with a noose tied around his neck.

With a flick of his fingers, he breathes sadness into Wonwoo.

Everything goes black, the music from the performers stop, perplexing Wonwoo, causing him to stumble through his words. “Hey—what’s happening?”

When the lights return, confusion greets Wonwoo even more when he sees a copy of himself standing alone in the middle of the now empty lobby, looking at him glumly with blank eyes.

Minghao approaches the false Wonwoo, shoes tapping on the marble floor, the sound ricocheting around in the deafening silence of the vacant space. He stands next to the spiritual copy, scooting closer to whisper in his ears.

“Look at yourself, Moon Junhui never loved you. He was never happy when you were around. Your lover, he hated you, Jeon Wonwoo. He often said you were such a burden, and he wished you were never born. His soul will never be at peace as long as you live.”

Tears gather around Wonwoo’s eyes, the dam breaks at each syllable that Minghao enunciates. “Go. Fill his days with memories and guilt of Moon Junhui’s death.”

_It was a rainy Friday night, and Wonwoo had finished his shift at the media company an hour ago—his colleagues bade him goodbyes long time ago. He tapped his feet impatiently on the floor, tapping away at Junhui’s number for the twentieth time._

_“Where is he? He’s never late.” He grumbles to himself as he brings up the phone screen to his ear. Expecting to be greeted with the familiar cheerful voice of Junhui saying ‘Hello! This is Junnie’s voicemail, leave a message, but I’ll probably never call you back!’ as a voicemail, Wonwoo was quite happy when the call finally went through._

_“Hello? Is this a relative of Mr. Moon Junhui?”_

_No ‘I’m sorry Wonwoo! I got caught up with petting the kitties so I’m late!’._

_No ‘Let’s get milk tea and hai di lao!’._

_Only a stranger’s voice greeting him through the other end of the line._

_“Yes, I’m his boyfriend. Where is he, and may I know why you have his phone?”_

_A silence._

_“Sir. I’m sorry to relay this to you, but there had been an accident and your boyfriend—he’s gone.”_

False Wonwoo stands before Wonwoo, his eyes void and black, stretching out his hands, as if welcoming Wonwoo into an embrace. “ _It’s just the two of us now, Wonwoo. Let’s suffer together._ ”

Minghao watches on the side with dark amusement written all over his face. “I’m giving you a taste of what I went through, Jeon Wonwoo. From the moment you touch him, a curse will be haunting your days with guilt.”

Somewhere in the void of the space, a voice seeps into Wonwoo’s ears—a comforting whisper.

_Take my hand._

_Take it._

_Take it._

_I’ll save you._

Wonwoo reaches out with both of his hands, tears falling uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. Just before he manages to touch the spiritual copy of himself, the door to the space is busted open.

“Minghao, please stop!”

Junhui bursts inside, running up to the hotel owner who whips his head around, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “It’s all thanks to you that I’m allowed to have the chance to relive my grudge a little.”

The ghost shakes his head, eyes desperate. “This is not worth it, Minghao. Please, I beg you—let him go!” Junhui approaches the spiritual copy of Wonwoo, only to be blocked by the hotel owner who suddenly teleports himself in front of Junhui.

Minghao hisses. “Stay where you are, Moon Junhui. Don’t come any closer because that curse is stronger than any other ghosts you’ve encountered.”

Wonwoo shakily reaches out to touch the copy of himself again, almost completely falling under Minghao’s curse, unaware of anything else that’s happening.

Junhui pleads hopelessly again for Minghao to stop, dropping to his knees and putting his palms together in a begging motion . “I will pay for everything that Wonwoo had done to you—just let him go!”

“Run, Moon Junhui. I promise, I’ll let you go.” Minghao says coldly, hatred brimming in his eyes as he watches Wonwoo moving closer to touch the spirit.

“No.” Junhui refuses stubbornly. “You’ll protect me. No matter what happens, you will always protect me.”

He walks up to the spiritual copy of Wonwoo, pulling him into a hug before the real Wonwoo could even touch him. As soon as Junhui makes a contact with the spirit, Wonwoo’s knees buckle weakly, losing strength as he falls onto the ground with a loud thump, eyes completely shut—he faints.

“Release him or you’ll be cursed!” Minghao orders through gritted teeth.

His order comes a little too late, when the spirit starts to dissolve, and being absorbed into Junhui’s chest. He collapses, clutching his chest and a pained smile on his lips before he closes his eyes . “I’m not scared, I have you. You’ll always protect me, Xu Minghao.”

* * *

The ancient tree stands tall before Minghao, rooted on the ground of the garden in all its 1300 glory. He clenches his fists into tight balls as the sweet, almost sickly, smell of blooming flowers cut through the soft scent of morning’s dewy grass.

The tree reminds him why he’s still being tied down to the hotel even after 1300 years have passed.

The tree carries with it all of the things he wants to forget—his hatred, his revenge, his resentment.

The tree reminds Minghao of _him_.

A vicious smirk tugs at his lips when he catches the sight of the blue flower buds on one of the branches. “How silly, you bloomed flowers for Moon Junhui?”

“You’re the silly one, you wicked thing.” Reaper’s voice ricochets through the garden, the man dressed in all black appears from behind the tree, giving Minghao a tight-lipped smile. “I heard what you did, Minghao.”

Minghao sneers, taking a seat on one of the chairs. “What, you’re going to snitch on me and tell your deity boyfriend about it? About how naughty little HaoHao has been?”

He snaps again. “Why don’t you tell him to stop letting these flowers bloom? They’re so ugly.”

Jeonghan isn’t going down without a fight. “These flowers bloom because of your own feelings, Minghao.” The reaper glares at the hotel owner. “How about I exterminate you right now? You know I could do that.”

Minghao scoffs, another smug smirk playing on his lips. He runs his hand through his hair nonchalantly. “Go on then. I’ve been here for way too long anyway.” Minghao glances at the enraged reaper. “You think you’re all that, Jeonghan. But you can’t scare me by threatening to turn me into dust.”

Minghao’s sarcasm amuses Jeonghan. Minghao is commencing a fight, but Jeonghan knows how to pick his battles. “The one who made your flowers bloom. How do you feel about losing him?”

The smirk drops from Minghao’s lips, and it’s now Jeonghan’s to wear it. “You’re not afraid of these flowers withering? You’re wrong, Seo Myungho. These flowers will wither once you feel fear.”

Minghao quickly returns to put up a tough front, propping up his feet on the table, leaning back into the chair. “If I say ‘Why are you doing this to me? I’m scared’ while shivering like a dog in the rain and these petals finally wilting, will you lead me to the afterlife?” He challenges. “Instead of all that, bring _that_ _person_ to me. I’ll finish everything and disappear from here. Just like what I’ve been waiting all these years.”

Something changes in Jeonghan’s eyes, as if he’s feeling sorry for Minghao. “Moon Junhui will bring _that person_ to you.”

Minghao removes his feet from the table, slamming his fists, annoyed at the deity’s irritating persistence. “Why does Seungcheol keep dragging Moon Junhui into this?”

“It’s not Seungcheol. It’s _the one_ who wants to give you a good send off.”

Minghao shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever it is. It shouldn’t be my fault that Moon Junhui decided to stay by my side all this while.”

Jeonghan clenches his teeth at the hotel’s untiring stubbornness. “You pained him, haven’t you realized? He had to witness the person he loved the most almost cursed by you—you created a space out of illusion just to curse him, such lowly of you, Minghao. What else will he have to unfairly go through because of you?”

Minghao’s hand trembles at the thought of possibly hurting Junhui, causing Jeonghan to sneer. “I really like seeing you tremble in fear.”

With that, the reaper dissipates into thin air, leaving Minghao alone with his thoughts. He has never had anything to fear, but when Junhui comes along—he shakes like a leaf at the thought of losing the ghost whom he’d never known the existence of.

* * *

Minghao quietly slides into his office, closing the door behind him as softly as possible to not make a noise that could stir the sleeping form on his bed. Said sleeping form has Louis Vuitton Monogram Eclipse blanket draped over the rest of his body, only his head exposed. Minghao approaches the sleeping Junhui, carefully rolling on his side and looks at him.

Junhui’s features are much softer in sleep, his heart thumping in accordance with slow, shallow breaths. Serenity is plastered across his face as he sleeps. Minghao ends up caressing Junhui’s cheek, brushing away the stray strand of hair from Junhui’s face.

Minghao traces Junhui’s lip lightly with the tip of his index finger, it pouts slightly and Minghao has such an urge to bite it, to kiss it, to do terribly pleasurable things with it until he no longer fears the thought of losing Junhui.

His lips feel slightly chapped under Minghao’s featherlight touches. “I’m sorry,” he whispers lowly, moving on next to touch the spot on Junhui’s chest where he had absorbed the curse.

“This place, it’s neither a prison nor a fence to me, it’s just torture.” Minghao continues caressing Junhui’s cheek, leaning closer to plant a soft kiss, feeling his heart break.

“It’s not that wonderful to be tortured together.” He says sadly, feeling his heart break even more. “My dear moon, goodbye.” Minghao pulls the blanket up over Junhui’s shoulder, securing it into place before slipping out of the bed silently.

He’s about to twist the doorknob open when a soft, weak voice cracks through the air. “No. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

Minghao trembles again, gripping the doorknob tightly to muster up all the strength left in him to not look back. Because if he looks back, he won’t find it in him to leave.

But he does look back, because the heart wants what it wants.

The purples and pinks of the sky peeking through the heavy curtains reflect off Junhui’s skin, they capture him in an ethereal frame, highlighting his natural beauty, and Minghao can only stand there like an idiot and adore him.

How is it that someone could look so breathtakingly gorgeous without doing a thing? Even more so when they’d just survived a curse? Through Junhui’s thick lashes, he looks at Minghao with such hope. It’s the look in Junhui’s eyes that confirm it: Minghao is truly fucked because he wants to be alive for another 1300 years just to be with him.

Junhui leaps out of the bed, rushing up to Minghao and pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around the hotel owner. His embrace is warm, and his strong arms seem very protective when wrapped around Minghao’s frail body.

In Junhui’s warm embrace, the world melts away and stops still on its axis.

There is no time, no wind, no rain.

Just Minghao, Junhui, safe within walls, protected.

“Why are you leaving me? You can’t swallow up all my nights and dreams and then leave me.” Junhui says in a broken voice, lifting Minghao’s chin with his fingers. “That’s not fair.”

Minghao shakes like a leaf in the wind again. “Staying by my side means you’re going to get hurt again, Moon Junhui. Someone like you deserves to go to the afterlife without such burden.”

Junhui lets go of his grip on Minghao’s body, hurt flashing across his eyes. “You’re trying to drive me away.”

Minghao shakes his head softly, cradling Junhui’s face with his hands. “I’m asking you to not go. I might use you, expose you to danger, and you can’t have an easy journey to the afterlife. Are you willing to stay by my side now?” He caresses Junhui’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Even if I go crazy and disappear, will you stay by my side?”

Junhui cups Minghao’s face. “I won’t let you disappear.”

Junhui’s lips are suddenly locked with Minghao’s, kissing him. The start of the soft touch sends a strong feeling of warmth spiraling through his system. Minghao’s eyes are closed fearlessly, but the closure doesn’t let him see darkness. His tense nerves soon begin to relax, his troubles, his pain—all melt away and his surroundings begin to disappear leaving only him.

Him and Junhui.

_This._

_This feels true._

_This feels good._

_This feels right._

Their lips part to catch a breath of air, Minghao chuckling lowly beneath the salty tears. “Is it payback because I stole your first ghost kiss?” And then he pulls Junhui into another kiss.

They hover right there, quite soundless for so long, simply feeling each other’s presence.

Unbeknownst to them, tiny blue buds open on the branches of Soul Tree, just as Minghao lets his walls down and lets Junhui in—for the first time in 1300 years.

Unbeknownst to them, when leaves sprout, the flowers bloom and wither, the time between life and death will flow again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> junhao's pic update today (27/9/2020) is what kept the creative juices going. all kudos, reviews, and bookmarks are very much appreciated!


	8. Heart's Ease; you occupy my thought [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhui thinks love looks pretty on Minghao. Minghao thinks the ocean looks more beautiful than before, with Junhui here— Minghao also knows, time is outrunning him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there will be a NSFW scene in this chapter.

_His heart in me keeps him and me in one,_

_My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:_

_He loves my heart, for once it was his own,_

_I cherish his because in me it bides:_

_My true-love hath my heart, and I have his._

* * *

Choi Seungcheol carries with him a basket filled with white lilies, accompanied by the Reaper, they both stand in front of the ancient tree. A smile lights up the deity’s entire face as he touches one of the blooming buds on the tree’s tall branches, inspecting its growth closely. “These flowers are so pretty. I’ve always known that Minghao has a pretty soul.”

Jeonghan glances at the blooming flowers, no smile etched on his face, contrasting the deity’s joyous mood. He asks. “Seo Myungho, he will die when these blooms fall, won’t he?”

Seungcheol nods sadly, letting go of the branch and stepping back, looking over at the Reaper. “He will. Eventually. His life and the life of the tree are chained together.”

A beat of silence fills the room when Seungcheol holds out his finger, and a firefly comes to rest on the very tip of his index finger. The small firefly isn’t bright like any other fireflies, its wings flapping weakly and its light not as vibrant as it once used to be—as if it had lived through a series of decades and it had grown weary, only waiting for the time to come for it to finally rest.

“It’s been too long for Minghao, and for the man who was forced to remain as a small light in that kid’s life.”

The firefly takes off, flickering dimly with its worn-out wings, flying off to one of the blooming blue buds at the very top of the ancient tree.

Seungcheol sighs, gripping his basket tighter. “I remember, when I was escorting him to Sanzu river, he turned back. And he has been here all the time.”

Jeonghan nods in acknowledgment. “I didn’t take away his life because you had asked me not to.” He throws a fleeting look at the firefly. “Impressive that a human spirit has survived this long as a small light.”

The deity takes out one of the many white lilies in his basket, sighing deeply. “It’s a curse he casted upon himself because of a promise he made to Seo Myungho.”

Jeonghan grabs a hold of the deity’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “When Minghao knows the price that Moon Junhui has to pay when he chooses to stay by his side, won’t that arrogant brat be sad and scared?”

“Our brat, he can look at death straight in the eye and not shiver one bit. But when his love is held at a sword point by fate, he shakes like a leaf.”

* * *

Moon Junhui is in Xu Minghao’s spacious office, restless feet pacing back and forth around the room out of boredom. He looks through the china cabinet in one corner of Minghao’s office, marveling at the hotel owner’s collection of porcelain cups—possibly for his tea making hobby. Junhui thinks tea drinking is a waste of time, he would rather down a large cup of iced milk tea, but the hotel owner seems to have a penchant for sentimental things.

Minghao rubs his temples, eyes twitching in annoyance. “Can you please stay still? I’m trying to focus.”

Junhui’s mouth contorts into a small pout, the office regaining its serenity when the rubber soles of Junhui’s shoes stop squeaking against the polished marbled floor. “Let’s go out! It feels so stuffy in here. Let’s go on a date!”

Minghao shuffles through a stack of his paperwork, clipping them together on his clipboard, unamused with Junhui’s request. “We can’t. I’m still working, as should you.” He gestures to the opened laptop near the sofa with a dip of his head.

Junhui tries his luck again, coming up to Minghao’s worktable to convince him to go out on an official date. “ _Minghaooooo_ , come on. I want to know what a ghost date is like. Let’s gooo.”

Junhui’s whines garner no reaction from Minghao who only pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge, focusing solely on the thick stack of guest information documents in front of him, which in turns disappoints the other man.

“Touché. This is so boring. I thought only humans ghost on each other. I scored myself a ghost boyfriend and he’s ghosting on me.” Junhui says out loud, missing the light blush on the hotel owner’s face when he mentioned the word ‘boyfriend’. Junhui goes back to his designated workspace, launching QuickBooks on the laptop, typing away furiously at his keyboard when Minghao doesn’t seem to offer any words of comfort.

The two work in silence for a while, Junhui finally coming down from his short moment of anger. Just when Junhui is absorbing himself in full on work mode, suddenly, he feels the empty space next to him on the sofa sinking down under a weight.

_Kiss._

For one quick moment, Junhui feels something soft landing on his cheek, and a brief scent of chamomiles in the air. He turns to his side to process what’d just happened, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of auburn hair before it disappears from his view.

Junhui touches his cheek, holding it and gasping when a blush comes creeping up his face when he’d finally made sense of what just happened. Junhui turns to look at the man, who is back at his worktable, hiding a small smile behind the mountain of paperwork laid out on the table.

“That’s not fair! You used teleportation to kiss me. I’m still mad at you!” Junhui huffs out, standing on his feet and making his way towards the hotel owner who feigns innocence. With a determined look, Junhui tries to pin Minghao against his leather chair, hovering over the man and gripping the collar of his dark purple suit.

“I’m going to go to sleep, and find all your dirty dreams, just you wait, Xu Minghao!” Junhui threatens, changing his voice a few notches lower to appear intimidating. The man beneath him doesn’t flinch one bit.

Under the span of five seconds, Minghao manages to manipulate their position and Junhui finds himself the one being pinned to the back of the leather chair. Minghao straddles Junhui, a look of smugness on his face when the tables have turned, favouring his side.

He looms over Junhui, the tips of their noses almost touching. In a low hushed tone, he says. “What? You want to know what I’m like in bed? Curiosity is getting to the kitty?”

Junhui keeps his eye contact, even as his fists draw tight over his knees. The betrayal comes a second later when he stumbles through his words. “No! What do you take me for?”

Minghao hums and tilts his head to better appraise Junhui. His features are handsome and unassuming, supported by the soft halo created around his auburn hair in the light, but Junhui doesn’t let that waver him. His mouth twitches a little before blooming into a laughter.

Minghao’s laughter is so carefree and pure, so child-like despite his 1300 years of living. It comes to Junhui’s ears as a tickle and bounce.

His laughter is the summer rain and the birdsong too. Junhui would imagine that no matter the weather, the sun would brighten.

Minghao stops his laughter with a mischievous smile on his lips before approaching the coat hanger behind the wooden door of his office, taking a beige overfit coat, throwing it over his shoulders like a cape. He holds out his hand to Junhui, expecting him to take it.

“Let’s go.”

Junhui knits his eyebrows together, but takes Minghao’s hand anyway, just because. “Where to?”

“Didn’t somebody say he wanted a ghost date? Let’s go.”

Junhui’s eyes light up instantly, excitement flickering in his brown orbs. “Where are we going? Is there like a ghost café or something?”

“Silly. I read your profile. You liked hotpot, didn’t you?”

“What! They even wrote down what I liked to eat?” Junhui’s mouth agapes in amazement at the little detail that the hotel seemed to know, despite him never really exposing what he liked eating.

“Of course. My employees are very diligent. However, I don’t really like hotpot. They are a tad bit too oily for me, spicy too.”

“I really liked hotpot. Wonwoo did, too. Anything spicy, we liked.” Junhui says suddenly, his voice growing softer towards the end, as if he’s lost somewhere in his memories. Somewhere along a few years ago, somewhere before his death.

“Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.” Minghao repeats.

Junhui’s eyes enlarge as he clasps a palm over his mouth when he realizes he’d crossed the line by mentioning a name he shouldn’t have. Bowing deeply, Junhui apologizes. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

Minghao fixes the coat on his shoulders, looking rather perturbed at the mention of the name. But there is no resentment or wrath at all. There is something else, however. Something akin to _jealousy_.

* * *

They end up at one of the Hai Di Lao branches somewhere in the busy streets of Myeongdong that Junhui had visited many times before. The store would have been extremely crowded had they gone during normal hours. But going to the store near the closing time, they find themselves sitting at the table at the back of the restaurant.

“You really can’t take spicy food, can you?” Junhui says, pity lacing his voice when he sees the pitiful sight in front of him.

The hotel owner has discarded the overfit coat long time ago, and the outer wear of his suit has also been long abandoned on the chair next to him. He has the sleeves to his silk white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing the Cartier bracelet and Rolex clasped around his left wrist.

On his forehead are beads of sweat, dripping down to the sides of face. His nose and lips have gone red, all thanks to the doing of the Sichuan spicy hotpot base.

“What would the people say? A young man having hotpot alone,” Junhui continues, touching the teddy bear on the chair across Minghao’s seat—courtesy of the restaurant for single patrons. “And he can’t even take spicy food.” Junhui stares longingly at the buffet of meat laid out in front of him, wishing he could have a bit of each on his tongue.

“Be quiet.” Minghao hisses, refusing to go down without a fight, stabbing a piece of meat with his chopsticks before dunking it in the spicy broth. “If the prince of Baekje can eat this, then so can I.”

Before Junhui can come up with a smart question as to what Wonwoo has to do with this, his voice is interrupted by the sound of a group of rowdy university students entering the shop.

Minghao grimaces distastefully at the change of environment behind him. “So noisy.”

Junhui nods, agreeing. He looks at the group of students briefly, recalling his own university days. Finishing up club activities late at night and going for cheap, student meals with Wonwoo. It almost brings a smile to his face, but he’s momentarily disturbed by one of the students in the rowdy group.

In the middle of the group, stands a boy whom Junhui is pretty sure he had seen in his dreams before. Forcing his brain into high horsepower, he tries to search for memories which include the boy.

Then it clicks.

Smiling face in front of a chamber, welcoming Myungho inside.

Smiling face on a platform, rope tightly wrapped around his neck.

Junhui’s whole body goes frigid when he’s finally recognized that it’s the same boy from his dreams—Huang Renjun.

“He died for you.”

Minghao looks at Junhui weirdly, not comprehending his sudden words. “What are you talking about?” He furrows his brows together, chewing slowly on the meat in his mouth.

Junhui shakes, still having his gaze locked on Renjun from a few tables away. He remembers how violently Minghao had reacted when he saw Wonwoo. He wonders if the hotel owner would kick up a huge fuss again after meeting somebody from his past life. For a moment, Junhui contemplates on not telling him.

Minghao grows frustrated at Junhui’s lack of reply, choosing to see for himself what’s got the ghost’s attention. He turns on his back, seeking for whatever that Junhui has his eyes fixated on.

His brain stutters for a moment and his eyes take in more light than expected, every part of him goes on pause while his thoughts catch up. Totally stunned, as a name bounces around his skull.

Huang Renjun.

_Huang Renjun._

_“Huang Renjun!”_

_Myungho shouted at the teenager running off to the shore of the ocean, smiling brightly when he got far away from Myungho._

_He held the newly made hairpin in his hand up in the air. “Catch me if you can!”_

_Myungho sighed again before taking off, chasing after the younger who was quick on his feet. Renjun laughed in the distant, walking backwards while taunting playfully at the elder. As he backed up, he felt the surface of his back touching something solid._

_As he whirled his head around, he felt the hairpin being snatched from his hand, and Myungho smiling as he caught up._

_“Playful as always, Huang Renjun.”_

_Renjun smiled even brighter when he looked back and recognized who it was. “I meant no harm, as always. Oh—you brought us wine! Myungho would love it!”_

Minghao loses the feel in his hand, causing the chopsticks to slip from his grip and clank loudly against the metal bowls. Renjun flinches in his seat at the loud sound, looking around the restaurant to look for the cause. His eyes lock with Minghao’s unwavering gaze.

_Renjun stood on the platform, staring at a defeated Myungho. When the elder finally looked up, Renjun smiled a bright smile at him and a tear trickled down Myungho’s cheek. The royal guards kicked out the pedestal, Myungho screamed out Renjun’s name, trying to reach the platform before being yanked away._

“Huang Renjun.” Minghao murmurs lowly, his hands trembling, not looking away from the boy. Renjun shifts in his seat uncomfortably, touching the nape of his neck awkwardly when he realizes a stranger is staring at him, deadpanned. He looks away for a second from Minghao’s intense gaze, only to look back at Minghao—and for a fleeting second, it looked as if he could almost recognize Minghao.

But he looks away not too long after, going back to his friends and laughing and smiling a bright smile at whatever topic that they’re conversing. Tears gather around his eyes, red-rimmed, the pain gnawing at him like an open wound despite 1300 years have passed.

Then he feels a pair of soft hands over his eyes, shielding him away from the sight of Renjun. “Let’s go back.” Junhui whispers comfortingly in Minghao’s ear. The hotel owner nods weakly, picking up his belongings and walks out the restaurant with Junhui in tow.

They walk in near silence through the vacant streets of Myeongdong, only sounds of car engine in the distant filling in the gaps between them. Junhui clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, the guilt weighing him down like a dead weight.

“Hey. You okay?” He nudges Minghao’s arm with his elbow. “I’m really sorry, you know?”

Minghao shakes his head, throwing another question at Junhui’s question without actually answering. “I need to be alone. Do you mind?”

Junhui stops in his tracks, wants to tell Minghao that he can be a place where Minghao can cry. Before he could even do that, he sees a flash of auburn gradually disappearing in his view. Junhui sighs.

* * *

Minghao sits alone in front of the ocean at 8BAR, after instructing Joshua to make it vacant of all guests. The hotel didn’t question why, only did as told, making an announcement to the guests that the swimming pool is off limits to the guests tonight. And for that, Minghao is appreciative of his non-nosy nature.

Minghao’s nostrils engulf the delicate hint of seawater in the air, and with it his brain floods with memories of Huang Renjun. The boy was as cheerful as the first day they met, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

So much time had passed since then, and all Minghao has left of him is the occasional fleeting memory. His chest aches at the thought of what he’d lost—the first and only friend he had. Seeing the friend whom he had lost in another lifetime, in flesh—it makes him happy but sadness seeps through the cracks of his heart.

The ocean brings the strong waves.

The ocean also brings torrents of memories.

Places where _he_ touched still feels like raw burn, and Minghao finds himself being drowned in memories of volatile moments.

_When Myungho came to, he noticed he was kept alone in the dark confined space, behind the metal bars. On his cheeks were fresh red marks from when the royal guards kicked him to the ground, keeping him at a sword point when the tip managed to scratch his skin, drawing blood._

_His hands were bound to his back with a rather large rope, that when he tried to wriggle free out of it, the effort was hopelessly futile. Myungho groaned, leaning back into the stacks of hay behind him and waited—for a deity, for anything, for help._

_Eventually, footsteps could be heard from the hallway to the enclosures where slaves were kept. Myungho quickly got up on his knees, nearing the metal bars to ask for some sort of help from the approaching figure._

_Tall._

_Tanned skin._

_Blue gonryongpo._

_Myungho seethed with anger, vision blurred with the instant need to lunge at the crown prince who stared at him, only metal bars separating them. He tried to get up, only to fall down when the strength in his upper body hadn’t been regained._

_The crown prince continued staring, clenching something in his fist behind his back. “Seo Myungho, consider yourself fortunate. The prince of Baekje decided to spare your life.”_

_Myungho spat out of rage, teeth gritted aggressively. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you and all of your loved ones!” He tried standing up again, coughing up blood when he did so_

_The crown prince wore a look of emptiness, as if hollowed out, before walking away. “To kill me you need to stay alive.”_

Minghao is pulled out of his reverie when his hearing catches the sound of footsteps rustling among the fine white sand of the manmade beach. Almost snapping because he’d told Joshua to keep the beach vacant tonight, he is mildly surprised when he turns around and only finds the sight of Moon Junhui, looking like a kicked puppy.

“How did you find me here? I don’t remember giving any tours of the beach tonight.” Minghao says, squinting when the blazing intensity of sunlight catches his eyes. “I should tell Joshua to lower the sunlight.” He murmurs, taking out his phone to send a message.

Junhui sits beside Minghao underneath the canopy, admiring at the ocean laid out in front of him. He wants to ask how Minghao manages to get an ocean in his hotel, and how despite it being nighttime, the ocean runs a daytime timezone.

He shrugs off the question, figuring that it’s probably Minghao’s 1300 year old privileges. Instead, he drums his thighs with his fingers nervously before speaking out.

“Hey. I’m sorry I made you go there and brought back painful memories.”

Minghao smiles tearfully. “It’s fine. It’s all thanks to you.”

Junhui contemplates asking another question. “Do you want to talk to him?”

The hotel owner shakes his head softly. “No. I’m a nobody to him in this lifetime. He seems like he’s living a good life, that’s a relief. That’s more than enough.”

Junhui nods, understanding, not wanting to probe any further. He leans back into the lounge chair when the sunlight has toned by a mile. The sun is no longer beating on his skin, beaming in his eyes. He glances at Minghao—admiring how the wind caresses his soft features.

Junhui looks back at the ocean, waves ahead roaring and roll down, crashing onto the shore with a soft hiss. “The ocean is beautiful.”

“Indeed. It makes me sad.” Minghao trails off.

Junhui waits for an explanation.

“I’m…” Minghao pauses. “A little sad because the ocean looks more beautiful than it did before. It’s more beautiful because you’re here.”

Junhui closes the distance between them and gives Minghao a fierce kiss. His overfit coat feels soft beneath Junhui’s fingers, and his lips taste like the night sky.

Minghao clutches him close, savoring the heat of a searching mouth against his own. With a sigh of contentment, Minghao holds Junhui tighter still, desire curling within him. Junhui can’t get enough of Minghao’s touch, the firm grasp of his palms send shivers of pleasure whispering across his skin.

Junhui tugs Minghao close in response, fisting his hands in his suit and pulling him in. The kiss sends a restless fever surging through Minghao. There’s a bite and heat to it—tongues sliding eagerly, lips, the accidental clack of teeth.

Minghao responds to the way Junhui grinds against him, and doesn’t flinch away. He falls back on the lounge chair and Junhui settles over him, their lips fusing once more.

_Touch me._ Junhui aches with wanting it, but doesn’t know how to ask, his body pressed tight and firm against Minghao as everything crumbles and unravels.

Minghao replies breathlessly, and Junhui once more thinks that damn—this man can really read his mind.

“Let’s take this to my office.”

* * *

It never occurred to Minghao that he would ever have the privilege of seeing Junhui like this— looking so well-kissed, flushing in deep, heady arousal. Never thought that he’d see Junhui coming apart at the seams as he loses control, kicking his legs out and arching his back to get more of everything Minghao is giving to him.

Junhui’s skin tastes like sweat, and a reminiscent of bitter cologne, salty and sharp on Minghao’s tongue. His neck is warm, despite lacking the pulse that would beat erratically as Minghao hooks his arm under Junhui’s legs and pushes into him for the first time.

Minghao isn’t a stranger to sex— lonely nights after drinking spent with strangers at other expensive hotels. Always leaving his nightly partners just before the sunshine peeks through the thick curtains of the hotel. Never bothering to remember their names or faces.

It was always just come and go. No strings attached.

But it’s been some time since he’s craved it the way he has since Junhui made a grand entrance in his life. That wanting ache crawls through his body now, sliding over his hypersensitive skin.

He gives his dick a couple of quick strokes, not missing the hungry look in Junhui’s eyes as he does so. Unable to wait any longer, he positions them just so. He nudges against Junhui before pushing further. The sensation makes them both groan, the tight heat of Junhui’s body clenching around Minghao like he depended on it.

Minghao thought they might do it with Junhui on his hands and knees, but Junhui wants it like this so he can get his hands in Minghao’s hair. Minghao doesn’t care. He wants to see Junhui’s face too, as sappy as that probably sounds.

He wants Junhui to _know_ it’s _him_.

Wants Junhui to _need_ it to be _him._

“Okay?” Minghao checks in, not for the first time. He’s fully seated, and he wants to move more, but Junhui might need a minute.

“Weird, I’ve forgotten what this feels like.” Junhui says, his voice low and rough. “Feels weird.”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Minghao agrees. “At the start. Not sore, though?”

“A bit.” Junhui breathes out and grips onto Minghao. “Full. Good sore, I think.”

“It passes.” Minghao convinces. “Promise. Want to stop?”

“No, fuck no.” Junhui shakes his head and clutches Minghao tighter. “Just—“

“—Yeah, okay then.” Minghao moves, the passage made easier by the ridiculous amount of lube he has added after fingering Junhui slowly until he’s writhing on Minghao’s hand and begging for more. He pulls out a little then pushes in deep, rearranging Junhui until he knows he’s hitting the right spot from the low moan of pleasure that comes from the back of Junhui’s throat.

“So good.” Minghao whispers. He can hardly get his breath, his words leaving him in a rush. He captures Junhui’s lips in a searing kiss and fucks him harder, deeper, drinking in every flicker of emotion that crosses Junhui’s face.

The world tilts.

The room heats and the night air fill with everything unspoken.

Minghao’s heart swells, his body aching with something that pulses and twists beyond desire, beyond the need to come.

He takes Junhui until they’re both tipping over so close to the edge. He grunts out Junhui’s name into another messy, passionate kiss and his climax rips from him in a burst of hot, white pleasure.

Junhui’s hand jerks himself to completion after Minghao pulls out slowly. When Junhui is sticky and sated and Minghao’s lips are raw from kissing, he settles back against the pillows and watches Junhui.

“Stars are out.” Junhui says, voice even slower than usual, sleepy, and breathless post-climax. He tips his head to the side and points to Minghao’s office window. “They’re never out in Seoul.”

“They must have heard us.” Minghao teases.

It makes Junhui’s brow furrow. “Were we that loud? What if the guests heard us...”

“As if they would. The walls here are soundproofed.” Minghao gives Junhui a quick kiss and props himself up on his elbow, following Junhui’s gaze out into the night. “Dead romantic, this is. Bet you’ve never had sex with a ghost before.”

“Of course not.” Junhui grins, focusing on Minghao again. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Like what?” Minghao traces butterflies on Junhui’s chest, pressing his fingertips against where Junhui’s pulse would be, if he were alive.

“Exposed.” Junhui sighs, chest rising and falling as his eyes shutter closed. “I could go again in a bit.” He mumbles.

“Bad exposed?” Minghao can’t help worrying, and he wants Junhui to feel good. He wants them to look at the stars again. Make a wish on one, before realizing it’s a plane. It’s the kind of thing that would make Junhui laugh.

“Nah.” Junhui opens his eyes again and he gives Minghao a slow smile. “Was good, wasn’t it?”

“The best.” Minghao says, his words catching in his throat. He presses a kiss to Junhui’s chest, pretending that there is a steady beat of his heart.

_The best._

Blue flowers bloom again.

The time is ticking.


	9. Butterfly-weed; let me go

_Then since we mortal lovers are,_

_Ask not how long our love will last;_

_But while it does, let us take care_

_Each minute be with pleasure past._

_Were it not madness to deny_

_To live because we’re sure to die?_

* * *

_The sun had just gone to rest, the darkness painting the skies and full moon that peeked out in between thick clouds were enough proof that night was finally settling over Goryeo. Crown Prince Mingyu is alone in his chamber. The red wedding garb is now off his body, only dressed in thin silk material. He stares at his own reflection in the dirty and foggy mirror, as if reminding him of his sins and how alike he is to the mirror—dirty and foggy._

_Sudden disgust wraps itself around every inch of him like a second skin when the gisaeng’s voice pleading for his mercy torments him loudly inside his head. The gisaeng had his hands tied around his back, on the rock-hard ground of the palace, screaming for justice at the crown prince’s feet as his friend was marching towards his death._

_He takes out an item that had been carefully tucked inside his evening wear. When he opens his palm, inside is a hairpin—with an ornament of two circles. Long gone is the pristine hairpin that it used to be, now covered in splatters of blood, crooked all around the edges. Mingyu clenches the hairpin in his palm even harder, feeling his heart break again and again._

_“Your Highness? May I enter your chamber?”_

_The young eunuch’s quiet voice is more that enough to snap Mingyu out of his reverie. With a hasty speed, he quickly keeps the hairpin tucked away on the inside of his clothes. Clearing his throat, he grants the permission to enter. “Enter.”_

_Eunuch Hong enters, albeit a worried expression is written on his face. “Your Highness,” he starts off and Mingyu gives him a side glance to signify that he’s listening. “You should go and visit His Highness Prince of Baekje in his chamber.”_

_The crown prince offers zero reply, choosing to pay more attention to the dusty mirror in front of him. Eunuch Hong sighs heavily, pleading. “Your Highness, you must bed His Highness tonight. The priests will be asking for a proof the next morning.”_

_Mingyu wanted to disobey the eunuch’s words of advice, refusing to bed somebody whom he only had to be wedded to extend the lineage of the royal family. Stubbornness washes over him. But the chagrin that will soon be upon the Queen’s face is quicker to wash over him, leaving the guilt hanging heavily above his head, along with his duty as the kingdom’s crown prince._

_Defeatedly, he nods in agreement, much to the eunuch’s relief. The young eunuch signals, permitting the court ladies to enter with the crown prince’s garments and other necessities needed for the night._

_Mingyu stays quiet as the head of the court lady slips on the white robe on him. He doesn’t say anything either when the court ladies tend his long, luscious locks, brushing through them with the finest of brushes. They gather all of his hair into a single knot, letting the front part hang loose._

_When the preparation is deemed complete by the crown prince’s eunuch, Mingyu drags the heavyweight of his footsteps find its way around the palace and in front of the prince’s chamber, a few quarters down his own._

_Closing his eyes to gather the courage of facing the prince of Baekje, the crown prince sighs again before mindlessly pushing the door open. The chamber is divided into two sections, the common area and the sleeping area. Separating the two areas is the long sheer red curtains in the middle of the chamber._

_Through the sheer red curtains, Mingyu can make out the prince’s figure, a red veil covering his head and a good portion of his upper body, complementing the red wedding garment he has on._

_The crown prince inhales sharply through his nose, reaching out his hands for the curtains and drawing it back. The prince seated on the bed seems to not give any response, only staying extremely still._

_Mingyu’s voice breaks the silence that permeates the air._

_“My prince.”_

_What happens next is something that he didn’t see coming. When the prince removes the veil off his head, it’s not Jeon Wonwoo’s face that greets him, agreeing to be bedded for the night._

_When the veil is taken off, it only reveals a disheveled looking man who is full of hatred and the fury need for vengeance. There is a fresh long scratch on his cheek just underneath his beauty mark, a loyal sword by his side, and his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword._

_Crown Prince Kim Mingyu should have ran, should have called the palace guards, should have asked his eunuch to accompany him by the quarter, he should have done anything and everything to break free from the situation that was entangled in._

_But he didn’t._

_Only a sad smile adorns his lips when he sees the enraged person whom he would proudly call his lover, in the past. The man he made love to by the ocean, in the quiet of the night—he’s long gone, replaced by a shell who looks just like him, but no warmth, no love at all._

_Mingyu bravely steps forward, voice coming out shaky as he keeps the tears extremely close to the bay._

_“Seo Myungho. I have missed you. Now you have greeted me as a fine bridegroom.”_

_Myungho lurches forward, his sword high in the air as he aims for the crown prince’s chest, keeping a safe distance between the two of them and a watchful eye on Mingyu’s movements._

_Mingyu doesn’t falter one bit—he feels no fear when he’s seeing his death waiting to unfold right in front of his eyes. He just feels, loss._

_He says with a wavering voice, the tears finally breaking free. “I wanted to caress you, I wanted to see you, Myungho yah.”_

_At the mention of the once deeply endeared name, Myungho takes another step forward and points to the crown prince’s chest where his heart is._

_“Keep that filthy mouth shut.” He hisses lowly, disgust and disbelief twisting in his eyes. “There are so many people who have grudges against you. You need to live through the guilt and watch it all go down before dying a misery death.”_

_Underneath the moonlight, the blade shines brightly, the tip covered in blood. Mingyu notices something else that causes the blade to glisten, an engraving lies along the body of the metal._

_ 徐明浩 _

_Mingyu smiles, lacking mirth. “You have finally memorized the characters.” He finally meets the man’s eyes. “Did Renjun engrave it for you?”_

_Ambers of fury burn in Myungho’s eyes when he hears the name. “Do not speak of his name with your filthy mouth, I said!”_

_Another smile adorns Mingyu’s lips, one that he knows would be the last one. He stands brave in front of the man he loves, with a sword and his death pointing to his chest. The crown prince grabs the sword quickly from Myungho’s grip, thrusting the blade into himself, piercing through his fine white robes, staining it with blood._

_He falls limp, head dizzy when he feels the blood oozing out of him, the blade scratching against his insides as he heaves towards Myungho, letting his head fall on his shoulder, embracing him. He brings up a hand to caress Myungho’s hair._

_“This is… our end.”_

Junhui’s dream ends abruptly, as he is shaken back into reality when he feels soft, featherlight touches gently caressing his hair. His eyes snap open, his eyelashes batting against his lids when he blinks.

Then everything processes.

When he turns to his side, he finds Minghao’s hand in his hair, threading through Junhui’s soft locks, an absentminded look on his face.

For a fleeting moment, Junhui’s mind rushes back to the dream and if it is true—if it’s true, Junhui wonders how somebody who looks like Minghao could even kill a soul.

Minghao, underneath the hard expression he always wears on his face, Junhui finds out just how full of love the man is. Because Xu Minghao is a thousand things at once, for Junhui.

He’s every color on what the spectrum has got to offer, every day of the season, every storm, every sunny day, every quiet morning, every busy night. Junhui knows pink is not supposed to go with red, on the color wheel, but he loves the flush of Minghao’s cheeks next to the splash of auburn hair.

“It’s nighttime.” Minghao says, ever so softly and Junhui thinks he could melt into his voice.

A smile, which then quickly leaves the hotel owner’s lips as he takes off his hand from Junhui’s hair. “Wake up and go to work now. Stop slacking off.”

Junhui glances at the clock inside Minghao’s office, and the needle is only pointing to 12. He pouts, getting off the comfortable bed before stretching his body like a cat. “Relax. It’s only 12. We’ve got a few hours before it gets busy.”

He studies his surroundings for a while, tilting his head to the side when he realizes that it’s an eerily quiet night at the hotel. He knows the walls are perfectly sound proofed and he could no way listen to the happenings in the lobby from the Minghao’s office, but the chilling quietness raises his suspicions.

Junhui sinks into the sofa, it’s twelve in the morning and even the birds are quiet. He comments on the awfully quiet atmosphere. “Hey. It’s pretty quie—”

Before Junhui could even finish his speech, Minghao sprints up to him and clasps his palm over Junhui’s mouth.

Minghao hisses his warning, “Don’t say the ‘Q’ word.”

Junhui wants to ask why, but his intention is disrupted by the sound of somebody banging on the door consecutively with desperation.

Minghao rolls his eyes through gritted teeth. “Super fucking peachy. I was hoping for a peaceful night and you jinxed it.”

When the door opens, Joshua comes striding in with the long-term stay trio, a panicked looking Chan trailing behind the couple, fidgeting with the sleeves of his green hoodie.

“Mr. Xu, we have a trouble.”

Minghao crosses his arms across his chest, propping his feet up on his worktable and glances at the trio—Seungkwan trying to hide himself behind a nonchalant looking Vernon, and Chan looking extremely mortified.

“Why is it that when something bad happens, it’s always you three?” Minghao scowls, scanning the trio. “What trouble is it this time? Did Boo Seungkwan and Vernon Choi Hansol beat up your bullies again?” He asks the youngest. “Or did you reveal yourselves to another human accidentally again?” He shifts his gaze on the couple.

“We have been staying lowkey on our dates ever since then, Mr. Xu!” The tips of Seungkwan’s ears have gone red as he scrambles for words. “It’s Chan… his brother—”

Chan cuts off the older, looking delirious as he pushes through the two to meet Minghao’s eyes. “Remember when I told you I would leave when my brother is coming of age and leaves the foster home?” He holds a breath. “He plans to reincarnate me with the help of a shaman, by a ritual!”

Junhui tilts his head again, confusion striking him. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

The crowd turns to look at him, expressions of unbelief on their faces—as if Junhui had just blasphemed. Joshua chews on his bottom lip and says, “It’s not a good thing, in fact, it’s extremely bad.”

Minghao carries on for the manager. “To be reincarnated by a human is unnatural, and it goes against the law of the deities. If he’s reincarnated like that, he will be banished from the earth completely when he dies in his next life.”

He gets up from his chair, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “That’s out of my power. You should find Seungcheol.”

Chan drops down to his knees on the floor, hands placed politely on his thighs as he hangs his head low. “Please! Mr. Xu, you’re the only one who can help me.” He begs, raising his head to reveal teary eyes.

It pains Junhui’s heart, to see the young boy begging for mercy—it reminds himself that a few weeks ago, he was in the very same position when he had red string wrapped around his pinky. He was lost, and Minghao was the only person he knew that could help him.

Junhui grabs a hold of Minghao’s wrist, shaking it profusely. “Minghao, we _need_ to help him!”

Minghao scowls again. “I know you feel obliged to help, but it really is a deity’s task. I’m powerless.”

Joshua’s smile is painful when he informs the absence of the deity. “Seungcheol won’t be around until 4 a.m. tonight.”

Junhui thinks hard, lighting up all the bulbs inside the powerhouse of his brain and connecting them all together.

Then, one bulb lights up. “When is the ritual?”

Chan stutters. “Later tonight at 3 a.m. The shaman said that spirits are strongest during the demon hour.”

Junhui proposes his idea. “If we can’t interfere with the deity process, we can buy some time until Seungcheol arrives!”

Minghao immediately scowls again at Junhui’s persistence, completely disagreeing with the idea. “Junhui, we can’t.”

Junhui looks like a kicked puppy when he grabs both of Minghao’s hands. “We have to help him, Minghao. Think about it, this good deed also serves as a good merit when you head to afterlife!”

Minghao mulls over the thought, and Junhui’s puppy eyes when he finally admits defeat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You really are the end of me, Moon Junhui.”

* * *

An hour later, Junhui finds himself trailing behind Minghao as they walk on the ledge of a concrete wall that leads to a more secluded part of the neighborhood. On the sidewalk is Lee Chan’s brother; Lee Gun, walking with excitement evident in the steps that he takes.

Minghao stops in his tracks, observing the boy before he lets out another sigh of the night. The wind blows through his auburn hair, sending it to all different directions. His long plaid coat flows in the wind as he stands on the ledge, hands behind his back.

“I should be enjoying my wine now. But you dragged both of us into this.”

Junhui rolls his eyes at the hotel owner being dramatic, time and again. “Tough luck, Minghao. It’s your job.”

“Touché. I only agreed because I want to spend some time with you.” Minghao responds nonchalantly, a tiny smile playing on his lips, sending blushes on Junhui’s cheeks.

Before Junhui could even come back with a smarter response, Gun carefully slips into one of the old buildings. The duo quickly follows behind when the boy opens the glass door to the building—clearly rarely used by the looks of the dust collecting on the surface of the cheap metal railings. Gun takes his phone out again, reconfirming the address before climbing up the staircase.

Minghao and Junhui follow closely behind, stopping abruptly when they reach the third floor where Gun stands in front of a closed door, a signboard on top of the rusty metal door which reads ‘EDEN SERVICES’. He brings up a hand to knock on it, the old metal clanking loudly which sounds even louder given that the streets are empty outside, not even a single car passing by.

After the third knock, the metal doo creaks piercingly, a middle-aged woman peeking her head from the side of the door. She says nothing, only scans Gun observantly.

“Lee Gun, I called this morning to arrange a ritual?” Gun says unsurely, pointing to his phone to make a point.

A lightbulb seems to have gone off in the woman’s head as she steps aside, welcoming Gun into the space. When Minghao and Junhui pass by in front of her to enter the room, her face contorts into a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Are you bringing any friends with you?” She questions, closing the door behind her.

Gun shakes his head, perplexed. “No, I came alone.” He bites his lower lip nervously. “Why?”

A short beat of silence before the shaman eventually shrugs it off. “Ah, I must have thought wrongly.” She gestures to the room at the very end of the hallway. “Come this way.”

The room at the very end of the hallway reeks of smoke, and Minghao scowls distastefully when he recognizes the prayer items that have been laid out on the table in the middle of the room, and all the items lined up on the altar.

“She’s legit.” He comments dryly to Junhui, sensing a rough night ahead of them, and turns to Junhui. “Be careful.”

The woman asks Gun to sit across her, while she lights the hell money on top of a lit candle. “His possessions, please.”

Gun nods enthusiastically, fishing around for a picture of Chan and his old iPod from his backpack, handing them over to the shaman. She inspects them under the illuminating light of the candle, before grabbing the bell on her altar.

Minghao senses danger when she scoots closer to the candle, ringing the bell once and putting Chan’s photo lightly over the flame. Before the flicker of fire could catch the paper, Minghao charges forward and blows out the candle, distinguishing it completely.

The shaman stops ringing her bell, frowning and looking around her surroundings. As if she could see Minghao across the room, she stares blankly at the space above Minghao’s head. She turns to look at the clueless boy, hissing. “What did you bring to my house? I sense something evil.”

Minghao smirks lightly. “She called me evil? Does she even know what kind of devil she’s been dealing with to get her shamanic powers?”

She gets up, taking a paper fan from her altar, sharp eyes scanning around again. “This thing has lived for 1300 years, refusing to heal, and it shouldn’t even be here.” She opens up the paper fan. “I need to banish it for good.”

Minghao chuckles in slight amusement. “Try me.”

Minghao’s first mistake is his arrogance, his second is when he underestimates the shaman. The woman holds the prayer bell in her right hand, and a paper fan scribbled with words that Junhui can’t understand.

At a flick of her wrist, she shakes the bell and the paper fan simultaneously, strings of chants leaving her lips. The lamp on the old ceiling starts flickering before eventually giving out its power, leaving the room to be pitch black. A strong gust of wind comes by so suddenly, rattling the old railings on the windows.

Gun is startled, extremely terrified of the sudden change in the environment. “What’s happening?” He yells, the fear thickening when his vision is restricted due to the lack of lighting.

The shaman ignores him, continuously chants in the dark. Minghao rolls his eyes again, and then he tries to take a step forward. The step doesn’t come because when he tries to lift up his foot, it feels as though it has been grounded to the floor, causing him to not be able to move.

Gun doesn’t think twice, he knows the potential danger that could come. With the speed of lightning, he grabs his backpack and makes a mad dash for the door, twisting it open with force and running down the staircase, each step echoing loudly.

Minghao scowls, lifting up his foot only to no avail. That’s when he finally makes sense of the true power of the shaman. “That fucking bitch!”

The shaman lets out a laughter, shaking her prayer items even more vigorously now as she shouts. “You need to pay for your sins, you evil spirit!”

Junhui is alarmed when he sees Minghao frozen in his spot, unable to move as if his feet are paralyzed to the floor. The next wave of panic comes in when the chanting gets even louder and faster and then—parts of Minghao’s hand slowly turns into gold dust, alarming the hotel owner as well.

Junhui yells. “What the fuck is happening!”

Minghao doesn’t even have time to react to the question when Junhui suddenly springs out of the darkness, lunging forcefully towards the shaman at full speed and knocking the prayer items out of her hands and stopping Minghao’s hands from being reduced to gold dust. He falls to his feet when the anchor that had been weighing him down is suddenly relieved.

She glares at her surrounding before quickly gathering the items back into her hand. “You evil little things!” With the flick of her fan, Junhui is sent flying across the room, backing up into the concrete wall with a loud thump.

Almost immediately, the very top layer of Junhui’s skin on his cheek is torn from the wind, creating an open wound. He brings up his hand shakily, alarmed at the sight of blood.

Minghao’s eyes go wide, running quickly to Junhui, cupping Junhui’s face in his hands. “Are you in pain?”

Junhui winces when the pad of Minghao’s thumb touches his wound lightly. “It kinda hurts a bit. But I’m a ghost, she’s human, how…?”

The hotel owner growls from the base of his throat as he turns to look at the shaman who’s searching through the drawers of the altar frantically for more prayer items. “She made a deal with a devil to give her powers. She… she can hurt us.”

Minghao clenches his teeth so hard it draws blood in his mouth, acrid and iron tasting. Fury fills his eyes again, and Junhui has seen that look before—back when he first encountered Wonwoo at the made-up space in the hotel concierge.

Gold burns in his eyes, that determined look of when a predator has found its prey and has locked its target. It’s only a matter of time until it pounces on its prey, tearing the skin apart with its sharp canines ruthlessly.

Panic washes over Junhui momentarily when he sees the hotel owner takes a step forward. He grabs a fistful of Minghao’s sleeve with pleading eyes. “Minghao, don’t do it. Don’t harm a human.”

Minghao tries to peel away Junhui’s grip on him. “She hurt you. She deserves it!”

Junhui shakes his head violently. “You can’t hurt a human. You’ll be dissolved into an evil spirit if you do that!” He takes Minghao’s hand, rubbing comforting circles on his palm. He whispers lowly. “I don’t want you to do anything that could stop you from crossing the bridge.”

Gold meets Junhui’s eyes, the fury slowly dissipating away and is replaced by what Junhui thinks is affection. Junhui smiles. “Let’s… let’s get out of here, while she’s still busy.”

Minghao grits his teeth when he looks at the shaman—hysterically lighting up more candles and burning more and more of hell money. He then glances at the watch clasped around his wrist, a quarter before four.

“It’s safe to leave this to Seungcheol and Jeonghan.” Minghao holds out his arm. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Junhui doesn’t know when it happened, but he finds himself sitting on top of Minghao’s worktable as the hotel owner strides into the room, hands full of paper bags that could feed an army. He sets them next to Junhui, taking out a small jar filled with black substance.

Minghao grabs a gauze pad with forceps, dipping it in the black substance. “This might sting a bit.”

Junhui inches away from Minghao’s approaching forceps, unsure of the iffy looking substance. “What is that?”

“It’s an ointment for ghosts, made by your beloved deity.” Junhui wants to ask why ghosts would need such ointment, and Minghao answers the unasked question. “Guests get into physical altercations often here. Drunk behavior, you know.”

Junhui lets Minghao tend his tiny wound, secretly enjoying it when the hotel owner winces as he dabs on the wound carefully. His eyes hold heavy affection, and Junhui wonders if it’s the same pair of eyes that had the murderous glint like he’s been seeing in his dreams.

But the nagging feeling of their unfinished business at the shaman’s place won’t leave his head. Junhui asks. “Did everything get sorted out? What’s going to happen to Chan?”

Minghao finishes up Junhui’s cheek with a plaster, taking off the plastic film and carefully sticking on Junhui’s cheek. “Seungcheol took care of his deity business, he’s probably going to negotiate with her.” He places the medical items back into the kit, and inspects his dressing work. “As for Chan… we’re going to offer him the dream call service.”

“A dream call service? Is that like a reverse séance or something?” Junhui snickers, remembering that one time Wonwoo contacted a fake shaman to conduct a séance for him. Sadness seeps through him when he’s reminded of that.

“Kinda. You would call the person you wish to have a contact with, and you enter their dream.”

A wishful look comes across Junhui’s face, as he zones out at the possibility of meeting Wonwoo again.

Junhui got to say his goodbye, but Wonwoo never got to say his. Junhui has had the benefit of watching over Wonwoo all the time he spent roaming around the streets, but Wonwoo has had to live with guilt and remorse and longing.

He glances at the hotel owner who is busy pushing back all the contents of the paper bag into his drawers. Junhui contemplates asking, knowing that Minghao has had a painful history with Wonwoo, and would probably appreciate him not bringing it up ever again. But Junhui figures it’s worth a shot.

“Minghao.” He calls out.

The tip of Minghao’s elf ears perk up at the mention of his name, resuming his actions. “Mhm?”

“I…” Junhui chews the insides of his cheeks anxiously. “Can I use the dream call service too?”

“Of course, why not?” Minghao stands up from his crouching down position, nearing the other man. “Who’re you gonna call?”

“Ah that’s… I’m gonna call Wonwoo. Is that… okay?” Junhui’s voice gets smaller, unsure of his request.

Then he waits for Minghao’s reaction. He had expected for the hotel owner to storm out of the room in bursts of anger, long coat flapping in the air. He had expected for Minghao to scowl, and say no through gritted teeth.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Junhui sees warmth flickering in Minghao’s golden eyes. Instead of a scowl, a small, genuine smile stretches over his gums, revealing the top row of his teeth as he nods slowly.

Healing, Minghao is healing.

But Cupid is a selfish god.

Time is running out.

* * *

Wonwoo doesn’t know how he ends up in front of the library of his old university. He whirls his head around, taking in the sight of the place that used to be super familiar to him once upon a time ago.

Without giving it much thought, he pushes through the entrance as the smell of new books tickles his nostrils, memories come gushing through. He scurries away to the one spot of the library which stores all the thrillers, and also doubled as his safe spot.

That section of the library was his safe place. Tucked away from everyone else on the campus, Wonwoo would create a world inside his head to get away from the world outside.

Until one day, a boy with moles on his face sat in his spot and—and that boy became his safe place, too.

It comes as a huge surprise when Wonwoo sees the said boy leaning against the window in between the two bookcases, the sunlight penetrating through his hair and kissing his skin softly. Wonwoo’s mouth hangs open, not believing the sight.

“Junnie!”

He runs up to Junhui, pulling him into a tight hug. Tears spill from his eyes when he smells the scent of Junhui’s cologne, telling him that everything is real—and that Junhui didn’t leave him, and that when he wakes up and rolls over, he will still see Junhui’s sleeping face next to him.

“Where have you been for one year? I—, they told me you—” Wonwoo tries to contain the sobs. “They told me you died. How absurd!”

Junhui doesn’t say anything, he just allows Wonwoo to cry into his shoulder. He runs his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair, his hand coming back wet and slick, and that’s when he realizes he’d been crying too.

“Junnie—baby, let’s get out of here and go home.” Wonwoo says, desperate to get out of the place, afraid that Junhui might go missing again, tugging at Junhui’s sleeves. “Faster!”

Junhui doesn’t move, stays grounded, a dejected smile on his face. “Wonwoo, you know I can’t.”

Realization hits Wonwoo like a tsunami, when he looks all around him, and everyone around them seemed to be frozen in their place, and the huge clock in the library isn’t even moving.

Another sob breaks through and Wonwoo covers his face, willing the tears to stop but failing miserably. All he can see is this is just fragment of his dream, and when he wakes up, Junhui is not gonna be there and it will be it—seven years of love and friendship gone, too.

Junhui pulls the miserable into another embrace, cradling him close as if he’s gonna break at any second. Through his own tears, Junhui whispers. “Now don’t think about me, you must live happily. As for the time we spent together, keep it as nothing but a memory, in a very distant place.”

He takes Wonwoo’s face in his hands, wiping the tears away. “Don’t cry too much for me, I lived a happy life, thanks to you.”

Wonwoo looks at Junhui, eyes glassed over by the memories of seven years of friendship, realizing this it the moment and he’s got to let go, even if it still hurts. One year isn’t enough time to patch things up, to make peace with the ache of missing Junhui.

But Wonwoo keeps picking at the wound, and refusing to let it heal. He smiles the brightest he’s smiled in a very long time. The tears won’t stop falling but he doesn’t hide them. They’re tears well spent.

And so Wonwoo watches Junhui disappear in the distance and sheds a tear for every memory, every smile, every touch, and every kiss they’d ever shared. He cries because he knows this is what’s right, and he cries for himself.

“My handsome love, goodbye.”

* * *

Minghao watches the two part their ways from afar.

He knows the first hand effects of love and they aren’t pretty; it can start wars and end them at the same time, kill people or motivate them to do better. It can drown you or bring air back into your lungs.

And he wants to cry because he’s so fucking in love with Junhui. He’s fallen so hard, so fast, without really meaning to, and the feelings are pushed to the surface. He wants to shout it to the entire fucking world but they probably wouldn’t hear him with how deeply he’s shrouded by this affection.

It’s the point where Minghao fawningly realizes that he has fallen in love, that the warnings and hopes and desperate advices not to come far too late. Because despite knowing that this could not end well, that they would soon part ways too, that this love is only short lived.

But it feels nice being with Junhui like this. It’s nice because instead of butterflies or the pull of desperation, there is a light bubble in his stomach that allows him to think freely, act freely, feel freely.

But Cupid is a selfish god.

Minghao thinks about having to release Junhui’s hand—and he, he’s so fucking afraid.


	10. Hemlock; you will cause my death [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always in Minghao, there is a moon and some nights it lights his sky, while other nights it emphasizes his brokenness.

_I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_

_With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,_

_I shall but love thee better after death._

* * *

李灿 。

Lee Chan.

Chan, his name would carry the meaning of ‘shining’, and true to his name, Lee Chan shines a bright smile on the day of his departure to the afterworld. The platform smells like river, damp and moist. The slow drip of the water hitting the paving stones of the tunnel accompanies the platform as Chan stands behind the black limousine waiting for him, Minghao and Junhui leaning against it and everyone else gathered around to see the youngest boy one last time.

Jihoon tries to hide a choked sob by clearing his throat loudly, startling both Soonyoung and Seokmin, causing them to jump. Soonyoung asks out of concern, timidly holding Jihoon’s hand. “Jihoonie, are you crying?”

The bartender reacts by violently wiping away the tear with his sleeve, but he never shoves away Soonyoung’s grip on him. “This place is so goddamn dusty! You know how bad my allergy is.” He refuses to admit that he’s getting teary eyed and that he is in fact feeling a little sad to see the boy go. Perhaps he’s gotten fond of the passionate boy after years of teasing him around the lobby.

Chan covers a knowing smile. “Jihoon hyung, don’t be too sad when I’m not around.” He says cheekily.

Soonyoung lets go of Jihoon’s hand and steps closer to Chan, a small smile on his lips as he touches the boy’s shoulders. “Goodbye, our shining brightly Lee Chan. I will miss you very much.” To which Chan nods. “I will miss dancing with you too.”

Chan then turns to the hotel owner. “Minghao hyung,” the unfamiliar use of term causes Minghao to raise his eyebrow slightly. “Thanks for last night—for everything. For putting up with the troubles I’ve caused.” He glances at Seungkwan who’s full on crying into Vernon’s shoulder—his partners in crime. “I wish you the best in crossing the bridge.” He shifts his gaze to Junhui. “Please take care of our Minghao.”

Junhui doesn’t have the chance to say ‘yes’ when Chan pulls the four of them—Junhui, Soonyoung, Minghao, Chan—into a group hug. “All of you have to cross the bridge soon! So that we’ll meet again in another life.” He says when lets go of the hug.

Minghao hides his sorrowful expression with a nod of his head. “Go, you brat. Jeonghan’s waiting.”

Chan nods and waves one last time at the group—Jihoon pretending to not cry, Seokmin and Seungkwan blowing their noses, Joshua and Vernon returning his bright smile—and then he climbs into the backseat. Seungcheol peeks his head through the rolled down window, handing him a white lily. “Have a safe journey, Lee Chan.”

When they’ve given their last goodbyes, Jeonghan drives slowly into the dark tunnel to the Sanzu river, Chan rolling down the window again and sneaks out his hand to wave again. The group stands in silence when they see the car driving away, gradually disappearing from their view.

The crowd disperses one by one until eventually only Junhui and Minghao are left at the platform. Junhui doesn’t pry his gaze away from the tunnel when he wonders out loud. “How long will it take him to cross the bridge?”

Minghao follows Junhui’s gaze along the tunnel. “Time flows differently there. It would take him 49 days to reach the afterlife.” A beat of silence follows before Minghao breaks it. “As we cross the bridge, we gradually lose all the memories that we have of this living world.” He stops to remembers all the guests he had seen off at the platform. “It’s not that we can’t return to the living world. We don’t return because we’ve lost memories of it.”

Junhui comments sadly, a brief flash of Wonwoo running through his mind, and the bright expression Lee Gun wore when he met the shaman who claimed that Chan would have a good reincarnation. “Those left behind must be pretty lonely.”

Junhui’s comment stirs up something inside Minghao, as if it resonates well within him, as if it’s a sore reminder of how he had been living before Junhui came along. Then, he promises. “I’ve been here for 1300 years.” He closes his hand around Junhui’s waist. Leaning closer until his forehead touches Junhui’s. “If I cross that bridge, I’ll erase many memories, but I’ll keep _your memories_ _until the very end_.”

Warmth drips off Minghao’s voice and seeps through Junhui’s non-beating heart like warm chocolate. Junhui thinks that the brain is like a vacant space with notes and photos glued to the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. In the end, some is ignored, some is stepped on with dirty feet, and when there’s no space left, the older ones will be covered up with new ink on cleaner paper sheets. And that’s how Junhui thinks people forget.

Junhui thinks he’ll forget a lot of his memories too, but when he recognizes the notes and photos of Minghao’s rare bright smile on his walls, drenched in chamomile smell, Junhui thinks he will keep Minghao’s memories until the very end too.

He brings up his hands and gathers Minghao’s jaw, making full use of his taller height to press a soft kiss on the hotel owner’s forehead. “Then for the remaining time that you are here, you should be as good as one can be.” _Another kiss_. “And it will be my job to keep Seungcheol from reincarnating you into a pig or a dog.”

Minghao hides his face in the crook of Junhui’s neck, answering slowly. “Living as a dog? That sounds a lot cooler, you know.”

Junhui hums. “Good for you. Oh, and also, Minghao? I cancelled the yacht purchase on your account, we can’t afford the tax.”

Minghao quickly releases himself from the embrace that they were sharing, looking scandalized when Junhui said what he said. He fishes for his phone to confirm the eligibility of Junhui’s words, and he throws an even more scandalized look when he realizes Junhui is right. “You made me sell most of my cars, the least you can do is let me have a yacht!”

Junhui wags his index finger in front of Minghao. “Nope. You can’t buy the yacht.”

“But wouldn’t it be cool to cruise the yacht and watch the sunset while drinking? Come on, Moon Junhui!”

Junhui just smiles. “I also took one of your belongings…”

Look of horror paints Minghao’s face when he thinks of his designer collection resting in his office, almost making a mad dash for the office to save his babies.

In the short span of Minghao walking speedily to the exit of the platform, Junhui takes out the pen from his pocket and quickly scribbles something on his palm. He catches up with Minghao’s fast pace, pulling the hotel owner’s arm and turning him around.

Junhui opens his palm, showing it to Minghao, revealing an infinity sign, just like the logo of the hotel and everything else that Minghao has owned.

“I belong to you.”

A smile creeps up Minghao’s face when he notices what Junhui had meant.

“Remember these moments with me too, Xu Minghao.”

Minghao reaches out and interlaces his fingers with Junhui’s outstretched hand.

And then in that moment, Minghao thinks that every single part of Junhui deserves to be worshipped and treated like it’s the holy grail.

Junhui is so pure, and Minghao’s sins weigh heavily on him when he’s reminded of what he’d done in the past, and how he shouldn’t be touching Junhui with the very same hands that had been tainted with innocent lives.

“I… I don’t deserve you.”

_Myungho cries in shock when the sword slipped out of his hold and the crown prince pierced himself with it. Myungho screams as he pulls out the sword out of his body, breathing hard and heavy as he watches the blood staining the crown prince’s pristine white robes._

_Mingyu brings up his hand, barely stroking Myungho’s hair, and with his last breath, he whispers. “Myungho, I will carry you with me in my heart, becoming a restless moon and watching over you.” His body goes limp, his hand dropping down to his side. Myungho pushes him away until the body falls with a thump on the floor._

_Underneath the full moon, Myungho cries as he feels his heart break—he got his vengeance for Renjun, but the man whom he once loved and held dearly has seen his heart—and the deity of love is selfish, because Myungho isn’t supposed to feel like that._

_He picks up his sword shakily, pointing it to the lifeless man, as he vows. “I will set the palace on fire, and all of you will suffer.”_

The tears are flowing freely now when Minghao remembers the painful days he had gone through. How his hollowed out heart was only filled when the tip of his sword slashed into anyone and everyone that came his way as he searched for the Guest House of the Moon with Renjun’s belongings behind him, wishing to give him a good farewell.

Junhui is pure.

Unblemished.

Junhui is so innocent, so protected, so naïve, so childlike. Maybe it’s the darkness inside Minghao that desires so desperately to love the light bits inside Junhui.

Minghao feels dirty.

He looks down at his arms. He’s held Junhui in these arms. Perfect, smooth, unblemished Junhui. He’s touched Junhui with these arms. Gasping, moaning, squirming, sighing Junhui. He’s killed with these arms.

Minghao begins to shake when the sins plague him.

“Do you still think you could be with me?”

Junhui’s hug is strong around Minghao’s frail body, as if holding him isn’t quite enough, he has to feel every ounce that he is press into every ounce that is Minghao. He wants to let Minghao know that he is a place where Minghao can find peace when the tiredness of the world claws on him.

“I can’t make the pain disappear.” Junhui pulls away for a moment. “But I want to bring you up from the rock bottom.”

Junhui slowly closes the small distance between them, framing the entirety of Minghao’s face with his hand. He kisses Minghao, slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. Junhui’s hands rest below Minghao’s ear, his hand thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingle.

Minghao runs his fingers down Junhui’s spine, pulling him closer until there is no space left between them, and kisses back tenderly. Minghao used to kiss like he was starting a war, he kissed people hard enough to bruise and say goodbye like there might not be another tomorrow.

But with Junhui it’s different. Junhui kisses like he gathers all of Minghao’s broken pieces in his hands, and keep them together safely. Junhui’s kisses pull him in until all gravity is lost under his touch.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become something else entirely when the kiss deepens with Junhui pushing Minghao back against the wall of the platform and taking charge, his hand fisting in Minghao’s hair as he yanks off Minghao’s reading glasses ad holds them in his other hand.

“Let me… let me take care of you tonight.” Junhui’s voice is rough as he mouths at Minghao’s ear, his kisses sending all kinds of delicious feelings sparking through Minghao’s body.

“Please, please take care of me tonight.” Minghao says. He pulls Junhui close and relishes the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

They fit together just right.

* * *

Minghao pushes Junhui back against the covers of his bed and quickly straddles him and tears off his own Gucci shirt. Junhui’s hands run over the smooth skin and Minghao rocks down. Junhui feels the pressure on his achingly hard dick and groans. He holds Minghao down by his neck and Minghao goes willingly.

The keep kissing as Junhui’s eager hands explore Minghao’s back on their own. Then, Junhui shoves them down Minghao’s pants and grabs his ass. Their kiss breaks as Minghao gasps and groans. Instead of returning to Junhui’s lips, he buries his face in Junhui’s neck and Junhui immediately tilts his head back into the pillow to grant him more space.

“Pants off. Now.” He commands into Junhui’s neck.

“Our Mr. Xu is quite demanding, isn’t he?” Junhui is barely coherent as he wills himself to stop kneading Minghao’s ass and slide them to the front where he makes quick work of the button, despite the distracting attention to his neck. Minghao quickly rolls off him to push his remaining clothing off and kick it off the bed, and a second later he is back straddling Junhui’s thighs, hands on the front of Junhui’s jeans.

Xu Minghao sitting on top of Junhui completely naked is something the ghost never thought he would experience. He takes in the sight of Minghao and his hard, leaking pre-cum dick standing between his legs greedily, Junhui is itching to wrap his hands around it, but in the next moment his jeans are unbuttoned. Junhui moans as Minghao’s nimble fingers grasp his shaft and tugs with a slow speed.

Through his nearly closed eyes, Junhui can see Minghao’s fingers dancing around his throbbing length teasingly. But then the hand disappears and Junhui’s jeans are pulled off, Minghao’s hands running all the way down Junhui’s legs. Minghao crawls up the bed again, laying down next to Junhui supporting his head in his hand and looks at him.

“You’re such an annoying tease!” Junhui groans.

Before Minghao could say anything to that, Junhui has wrapped his hands around Minghao’s erection, shushing his retaliation and the only sound that escapes him is a moan as Junhui sets out to undo the otherwise controlled Minghao. Junhui scoots as close as possible and edges his own leg between Minghao’s, bringing their cocks into contact as he ruthlessly latches onto the hotel owner’s neck, intent on marking it.

Minghao grinds into Junhui, relishing the feel of so much skin gliding against skin, but it isn’t nearly enough. Junhui feels Minghao’s teeth bite in his earlobe and he shivers.

“More.” Minghao’s voice is hoarse from panting.

Junhui rolls on top of Minghao, sliding his other leg against Minghao’s leaky cock. A hiss erupts from Minghao and his hands grab Junhui’s back, giving him leverage to push back against Junhui’s thrusts. When the feel and look of Junhui above him, panting, face contorting in pleasure, eyes gleaming, is nearly too much for Minghao, he crooks his fingers and scratch down the expanse of Junhui’s back.

“Ah, damn, Minghao.” Junhui stills his motions with great difficulty to stare at the man below him, sweat dripping down his forehead and strands of hair clinging to the back of his neck.

“It’s—Junhui—lube—now.” Minghao replies and brings his hands up to hold Junhui’s head and bring him down for a passionate kiss. Junhui’s foggy mind thought briefly that he doesn’t know how he would ever live without Minghao’s kiss.

Junhui reluctantly releases Minghao’s lips, lingering before completely withdrawing contact to rummage through Minghao’s bedside for the bottle of lube. He sits up on his knees between Minghao’s spread legs. They were bent at the knees with feet flat against the mattress, leaving Minghao completely exposed to Junhui. He uncaps the lube and coats his digits.

“Do you know how to do this?” Minghao asks, grabbing a pillow from beside his head and putting it under his lower back.

Junhui rolls his eyes. “I’m no virgin, Minghao.” He then fixates his gaze to Minghao’s tight opening. He takes his finger and circles it around the hole, slick fingers massaging the area and occasionally brushing Minghao’s taint area, drawing a deep moan from Minghao.

“Good?” Junhui’s voice is oddly soft. Minghao just moans in confirmation. Junhui leans down back over him, letting his fingers do the work while he gives Minghao a quick kiss and whispers in his ear. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, baby.”

Minghao groans and pushes back against Junhui’s fingers, which Junhui takes as a sign and starts pressing a finger inside the tight heat. Slowly, Junhui pushes the finger in and out, occasionally with a guiding word from Minghao. Junhui enters another, stretching the hotel owner wider. When Junhui finds Minghao’s spot, he knows it right away when Minghao’s dick twitches and leaks even more pre-cum and clenches around Junhui’s digits.

“Yes, there.” Minghao whines, pushing back against his fingers and Junhui takes it as a cue to insert another finger.

“Get in me, Junnie.” The rare use of endearment awakens something feral inside Junhui. He groans lowly, slicking his shaft, scooting closer and guiding his glistening head to Minghao’s ass. Minghao wraps his legs around Junhui’s waist as Junhui pushes in.

Junhui’s world narrows to two things. The _oh so tight_ entrance opening up for him bit by bit and the sight of Minghao’s face, biting his lips in pure bliss and fighting to keep his eyes open to hold Junhui’s intense and focused gaze. Junhui slips past the ring of muscle and he groans, pushing all the way in until his balls slap against Minghao’s skin loudly, eliciting a sharp gasp from Minghao.

“Sorry, sorry.” Junhui murmurs, pleasure like nothing else is sweeping through him and he desperately tries to keep still and lets Minghao adjust.

“Fuck, careful.” Minghao pants. “Give it to me now.”

And Junhui gives. He thrusts repeatedly until he finds Minghao’s prostate again, changing his pace ever so frequently. Their sweat-slicked bodies glide against each other and each push and pull is a wave of pleasure threatening to drown Junhui. When Minghao is pushing back against him and gripping the covers tight, he speeds up. Minghao’s dick is trapped between them, leaking cum sticking to the both of them already.

“ _Harder, faster, ngh… yes.”_ Minghao hisses through his hoarse throat. Junhui is chasing towards his own orgasm, throbbing when Minghao’s overwhelmingly tight ring of muscle contracts against him. He fucks Minghao hard and fast, pumping himself in and out, focused solely on bringing himself and Minghao pleasure and pushing him over the edge.

Minghao’s hand finally snaps to his dick and after three tugs he pants loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and comes all over his toned stomach. He pants harshly and his body tenses as if caught in a timeless moment.

As Minghao tightens around Junhui from the ecstasy of cumming, Junhui’s hips snap quickly and his orgasm rushes over him, filling Minghao with semen, making Junhui groan even louder. He slowly stills inside Minghao after the eighth spurt of cum, taking heavy breaths.

Minghao’s long auburn bangs stick to his clammy forehead, lips twitching upwards, but he keeps his eyes closed. Junhui slides out slowly, rolling off Minghao and collapses next to him. They both lay there for a while, letting their breathing ease and hearts calm.

Then Minghao catches Junhui’s hand with his before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Seokmin stand in front of the blooming Soul Tree, watching in awe as the ancient tree that always looked like it wouldn’t stand another day of living—with its dead leaves and nearly broken branches—there are small blue flowers everywhere and every way they look at the tree. The tree has come into full bloom, healthy green leaves sprouting from the strong, sturdy branches.

Jihoon is the first to break the silence between them. “The tree finally bloomed its flowers.”

The other two offer no reply, only looking up at the tall ancient tree, but the three of them know without having to say out loud—what it means for them when the tree blooms.

“You should tell how you feel about Joshua soon, Seokminnie. Before we run out of time.” Soonyoung comments idly to the youngest of the trio, to which he smiles until his eyes turn into crescents. “You should too, to that person.”

Soonyoung’s cheeks burn brightly, averting his gaze from Jihoon’s watchful eye. Jihoon questions. “Kwon Soon has a crush on someone?”

Jealousy drips off Jihoon’s tone but he tries his hardest to not let it slip past his nonchalant mask. Seokmin whistles. “Leave two people to work together for a long time, surely there’ll be some sort of crush developed. Just look at Minghao and Junnie.”

Jihoon glares defensively, hiding under the pretense of nonchalance again. “That has never happened to me before.” With a huff, the bartender leaves the other duo in the garden.

Soonyoung sighs loudly when Jihoon leaves, to which Seokmin taps his shoulders in encouragement. “The tree took over one thousand years to bloom. It’s gonna take some time for it to wither. You still have time before we take the bus, hyung.” He balls his hand into a fist. “Fighting.”

Soonyoung nods weakly as he lets himself be dragged by the bellboy to the lobby, resuming to work as they have a busy night ahead of them. When they reach the staircase, suspicions greet them as they see the bartender frozen in place, not going down the staircase to his workplace at the bar. Seokmin peeks behind Jihoon to see what he has his gaze so fixated on.

Jihoon notices their presence, and points to one person in the crowd. He points to a rather confused looking high school student in the crowd of the bustling guests, holding his backpack tightly as he nervously navigates his way through the lobby.

“That… isn’t that Gun? Chan’s brother?”

Seokmin and Soonyoung follow the direction of Jihoon’s index finger which brings them to the high school student. Soonyoung gasps in shock, turning to Seokmin to ask. “What is he doing here? Is he dead?”

The bellboy shakes his head. “I didn’t hear any guests ringing the bell earlier!”

The trio quickly run down the staircase to greet the boy, but the hotel manager is quicker, swiftly pushing through the crowd to get to Gun. “Hi, Lee Gun, right?” He greets, startling the boy.

“How do you know me?” Gun inquires, hugging his backpack even tighter now.

Joshua gives him a faux smile instead of answering the question. “Why are you here? How did you know to come here?”

“My brother… I saw his spirit in a dream, and he said he’s living at a hotel for ghosts in Gangnam so I came to check if it’s true or not.”

Joshua winces at the mere thought of having to break the truth to the boy. Before Joshua could answer, Gun adds some more. “Is it… is it possible to meet him?”

A painful faux smile hangs off Joshua’s lips again, but he doesn’t give any sort of yes or no. Instead, he gestures to the sofa. “Why don’t you have a seat first? I’ll discuss with my staff.” Gun nods his head, carefully walking so that his body isn’t touching the ghosts’.

Joshua turns around to face the trio. He deadpans. “He’s alive.”

Seokmin gasps. “How did he get in here? Living humans shouldn’t be in here.”

Joshua pinches his nose bridge, sensing another difficult night ahead of them. “It’s the side effect of the dream call service. That’s why Minghao doesn’t offer it to all guests. Living humans will bombard this place.” He taps his fingers against his fancy pants, drafting up a plan. “I’ll go tell Minghao, see what he can do. Jihoon and Soonyoung, keep an eye on Gun so that he won’t wander around. Seokmin, take care of the front desk as usual.”

The trio nod, and Joshua and Seokmin leave to get their respective tasks done. Jihoon and Soonyoung stand, watching Gun as the boy admires the architecture of the lobby, his mouth gasping every now and then. “I’ll make him a drink. You stay here.” Jihoon announces.

Soonyoung grabs a hold of his hand. “No. You might mix up soju into his drink or something. I have to supervise you!” He convinces the shorter. Jihoon doesn’t look impressed but doesn’t look mad either. “Fine then, but if anything happens… I’ll beat your ass into another lifetime.”

Soonyoung giddily follows the bartender to the bar island, slapping Jihoon’s hand when he instinctively reaches out for the red wine instead of grape juice to be mixed into the mocktail concoction—it happens often. And Jihoon doesn’t tell this to anyone, but he finds it rather adorable when Soonyoung mistakenly drinks alcoholic beverages and starts acting cute.

Finishing the mocktail with a paper parasol garnish, Jihoon brings out the drink on a tray, with Soonyoung following closely behind. When they reach the lobby however, they don’t see the top of head of the high school boy at the sofa. A small wave of panic rushes over Jihoon, but he tries to calm his nerves by scanning through the crowd and hoping that the boy would be among the guests.

He scans and scans, but he still cannot locate the boy. The worst has happened, and Jihoon gulps visibly as he turns to look at Soonyoung who looks equally freaked out as they shout in unison.

“We lost him. Fuck!”

* * *

The clock shows 3 a.m. when Junhui awakes from his sleep. He yawns the leftover sleep, and rubs it off his eyes to. When he turns to his side, he sees Minghao sleeping so peacefully and he smiles. He smiles because instead of his usual frowning, Minghao’s eyebrows rest comfortably along the arch, and his face is free of scowl.

With his arms about Junhui’s neck and a leg over his belly, Minghao breathes softly in Junhui’s face. Junhui glances at the clock once again and he knows he should wake him up and tell him to go to work, but when he sees Minghao’s peaceful looking face as he snores softly, Junhui doesn’t have the heart to.

So Junhui gently peels him off and tucks the duvet underneath Minghao’s chin, careful to not wake him up. Soundlessly, Junhui slips on his shoes and leaves the room quietly, closing the door behind him with the faintest thud possible.

He stretches his body from side to side as he walks along the hallway from the office to the staircase. An aura of darkness greets him when he walks down the staircase and the lobby doesn’t beam happily like it usually does. Instead, the other staffs are busy running around, as if searching for something frantically. Junhui manages to grab a frantic looking Seokmin by his sleeve when he passes through him, pulling the bellboy to the side.

“What’s happening? Why does everyone look so busy?”

Seokmin looks reluctant to engage in the conversation with Junhui, eyes still looking out into the crowd. He rubs the nape of his neck nervously, eyes flickering around the crowd. “Chan’s brother somehow ended up here, and he went missing. So all of us are searching for him.”

Junhui lets go of his hold of Seokmin’s sleeve when he finally makes sense of what’s happening. He tilts his head to the side. “If we don’t find him in time… what’s going to happen?”

Seokmin gulps down nervously. “This is the worst case scenario but if he wanders around the platform and somehow ends walking through the tunnel…” Seokmin trails off, look of horror prevalent in his eyes. “If a human walks through the tunnel, they might get stuck in a loop there forever, and they can’t get out.”

Junhui lets Seokmin’s thoughts sink in, the worry growing stronger. He feels an odd sense of responsibility over Chan’s brother, and he would hate it if the shining brightly Lee Chan finds out that the team at 8BAR has failed to take care of his beloved baby brother.

Without thinking much further, Junhui’s worn out Vans take him running to every crook and nanny of the hotel. First he searches around the office floor, where the garden is. He pushes open the door and peeks his head through, hoping to find Gun somewhere in there, marveling at the sight of the ancient here.

Instead of meeting the boy, only disappointment meets Junhui as the garden is dead quiet, only sound is the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind. Junhui proceeds to check every store room where Soonyoung would keep the housekeeping items, praying to deities that the boy would be hiding in one of the stores. Disappointment greets Junhui again.

He’s out of breath when he realizes that there’s only one place that he hasn’t checked; the beach swimming pool. The probability of finding Gun there is greater too, since it’s not everyday one gets to see a beach swimming pool in a hotel. Junhui gives it his all to run to the beach, crossing his fingers before pushing the door open.

The sun isn’t so terribly hot, just sunny enough to not cause Junhui to squint his eyes in search of Gun. The beach isn’t very crowded, only a couple of groups of guests here and there—by the shore, and some choosing to rest under the comfort of shades on the lounge chairs.

Junhui cranes his neck to search for the boy whom he had seen a couple of days ago. However, the deities must’ve been busy because Junhui is met with yet again the failure of finding Lee Gun. Worry starts to eat him whole when he narrows down the last two possibilities of where Gun is.

First, Gun has left the hotel and that would be a relief.

Second and last, Gun has managed access to the platform and walk down the tunnel that shouldn’t be walked by a human soul.

Junhui shivers at the last thought. Just when all is bleak and Junhui is about to leave the beach in disappointment, his hearing catches something of useful when two guests pass by him nearby the exit door.

“Did you hear about the missing human inside this hotel?”

“The one that they announced earlier? What about him?”

“I heard him saying he’s going to the platform cause he wants to see his brother there. Pretty sad, huh?”

Before he can even fully digest the information, Junhui’s feet act faster than his brain. He would rather waste his time checking the platform only to find that Gun isn’t there rather than finding out that he didn’t arrive in time. He would hate it because Chan left the world without any regrets.

Junhui runs the fastest he had ever run in his life, panting heavily when he finally reaches the platform. He crouches down for a while to catch a few quick breaths and wipe the sweat off his face before standing up to look around the platform.

The platform that leads to the tunnel seems empty and dark as always. Jeonghan’s escort car isn’t parked near the entrance of the tunnel, indicating that he hasn’t returned from his job of escorting Chan. Junhui tries his luck around the platform, searching behind the bushes and calling out Gun’s name.

Luck isn’t siding on his side though. When he calls out Gun’s name, only the echo of his own voice greets him, as well the water dripping off the tunnel and onto the floor.

The tunnel.

Junhui hasn’t tried searching through the tunnel. He has never gone inside there, because he knows it would lead him to the Sanzu river for when he’s ready to leave to the afterworld. He has never asked Minghao if he’s allowed in there, but since Minghao has never warranted such warning, Junhui figures its alright.

After a moment of hesitation, Junhui takes a deep breath, braving a step forward.

The lights flicker, casting a glow throughout the tunnel, causing shivers to ripple across Junhui’s body. He drags his hand across the wall, picking up dust and gunk. Wind steams through the tunnel, blowing through Junhui’s off white bomber jacket.

The tunnel curls away coldly into infinite dark. As Junhui furthers into the tunnel, the light that shows the rough walls dwindle as it snakes away. His skin shudders as he can feel his brain starting to defocus, searching for a way out as well as calling out Gun’s name relentlessly.

He goes through the long tunnel that seems never-ending, and he wonders if he’ll ever get out and see Minghao, or he will just be transported into the afterworld by default.

Junhui breathes heavily, growing lightheaded as he proceeds further into the tunnel. He feels every ounce of his energy being sucked out of him.

In the blur of his eyes that grow heavier with each second that passes, the last thing Junhui sees before passing out is the dim green light flickering and morphing into an outline of a person.

* * *

Minghao marches angrily into the lobby, because first, his sleep was disturbed because his staff caused a chaos again. So Joshua dragged him to the lobby while he was still dressed in his long pajamas and night robe. Second, he woke up and the spot next to him on the bed was empty and cold.

Minghao has all of the staff lined up while he crosses his arms across his chest, staring down on all of them one by one, causing them to not have the guts to raise their heads.

“You were saying, Joshua?”

Joshua clears his throat, pointing to Gun who has been fiddling with his fingers, not knowing that his little rendezvous had flipped the hotel upside down. “Gun here, he managed to get into our hotel, and he was wandering around so we panicked a little.” Joshua continues. “Fortunately, Soonyoung found him wandering around the platform and all is well.”

Minghao stares at the boy. A dull ache in his heart when he sees the close resemblance. He then turns to Jihoon. “Give him the special drink before he leaves.”

Jihoon nods in understanding, he knows what special drink Minghao is referring to. A special concoction made with a drop of Seungcheol’s home grown flowers, only to be consumed by humans who happen to pass by, and is given to them so that they have no recalls of the place.

“Anything else you wanna say?” Minghao asks the high schooler.

“No, Sir. I understand where Channie hyung had gone.” Gun replies politely. But there is something lingering that causes him to speak again. “But… when I was at the platform, I saw someone running into the tunnel!”

Minghao’s eyes flash. Guests have been found trying to enter the tunnel all by themselves in the past, and those who aren’t ready to leave but go through it anyway have been stuck in the loop there. “You remember what he looks like?”

Gun’s face contorts in concentration as he recalls the man at the platform earlier. “He… he was tall, and he was dressed in an off white bomber jacket.” Gun snaps his finger when he remembers the key trait of the man. “Ah! He also had a lot of beauty marks on his face too!”

Off-white bomber jacket.

Beauty marks.

Junhui is nowhere to be seen.

Minghao senses a dread, he asks shakily. “Where is Moon Junhui?”

No one gives an answer.

Junnie.

_Junnie._

_His favorite moon._

* * *

Minghao’s feet barely touch the ground when he runs to the platform. The adrenaline floods his system, palms sweaty and shutting down his ability to think logically. He doesn’t think of anything as he runs into the tunnel, calling out Junhui’s name.

Fear.

He feels fear.

Just when he thinks—finally, a home— everything he has ever loved slips through his fingertips like sand before he even gets to hold it close to him. Just when he finally gets to hold Junhui in his arms, solid and real, the universe decides to conspire against him.

Minghao fears losing Junhui.

One petal withers away.

Minghao fears never seeing Junhui again.

Another petal withers away.

He runs, but stops in his tracks when he sees somebody approaching from the other side. The fear is washed away by relief when he makes out the familiar figure of Junhui.

“Junhui!” Minghao calls out, running toward him and pulling him into an embrace. Junhui doesn’t say anything though. Only standing stiffly as Minghao holds him in relief.

Out of nowhere, Junhui lifts his hand, stroking Minghao’s hair.

Minghao freezes in his spot, recognizing the touch. 

_Mingyu brings up his hand, barely stroking Myungho’s hair, and with his last breath, he whispers. “Myungho, I will carry you with me in my heart, becoming a restless moon and watching over you.”_

He pulls away from the embrace in suspicion. He steps back, eyes sharp and never leaving Junhui. He asks.

“Who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. thank you so much to everyone who reads and leaves kudos and reviews! and also, i might exhibit my thirsty behavior by including one smut scene in every upcoming chapter lmao


	11. Myrtle; love in absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another life they are standing side by side and laughing, in this life he just leaves.

_Why this pining ever resides in resistance,_

_Whilst this love ever so loud screams none bothers to listen_

_And now I sense it all,_

_As I behold withal,_

_That we are but a bridge broken and of doomed fall._

* * *

The serene and quiet platform is loud when the soles of Minghao’s feet step on a small puddle as he staggers backward, away from the man he thought he knew, the man standing in front of him. Like a small, lightweight leaf shaken up by a violent wind, Minghao asks, mistrust thick in his tone.

“Who are you?”

Junhui gives him nothing like reassurance, only a blank, hollowed out stare. Minghao brings up his hand to touch the area behind on his head where Junhui had previously touched. The familiarity of the gesture makes it feel like his skin is burning with memories he so badly wants to get rid of.

The touch brings back memories from a millennium ago,

The touch brings back memories of betrayal, and a lost love.

The touch also brings heavy mistrust.

Seething because of Junhui’s lack of response, Minghao’s first language—anger—slips through him as he backs further away. “I shall ask you again, _who are you_?”

The anger dissipates however, only traces of brokenness and hope linger around his words. Before he could even pry further into the truth, Soonyoung and Jihoon come running towards the platform, out of breath.

Soonyoung tugs on the sleeve of Junhui’s jacket. “I’m glad Minghao found you in time! Who would’ve known what would happen to you if he didn’t find you?”

Soonyoung’s booming voice seems to have snapped Junhui out of his daze and brings him back to earth. His confused eyes look around his surroundings, trying to make sense of it. When he catches Minghao’s fierce, full of doubts golden orbs, he quickly bends down into a 90-degree bow.

“I’m sorry I made you all worry. It’s just that I… I was looking for Gun and then I went in here and…” Junhui hesitates, recalling the green light he saw before everything around him turned to black and all the consciousness left his body. “I think I was lost for a while but I saw a green light and then… here I am.”

Jihoon lets out a sigh of relief that Junhui comes back in one piece. “That could’ve ended up real bad, man.”

Junhui bites his lips, trying to find Minghao’s eyes, but the hotel owner is looking at him with an unreadable expression. He searches and searches. But there is no usual warmth behind the golden orbs—instead, they’re all flared up, walls high and guards in place.

Junhui hesitates, but he reaches out to touch Minghao’s skin. His hand stills in the air, hanging awkwardly, and suspended by shock when Minghao flinches away from Junhui’s attempt to touch him. It feels as if electric current is prickling on Junhui’s skin at the sudden gesture of rejection.

Just yesterday it felt like he was one step closer to Minghao.

And today Minghao takes three steps back, distancing away.

Minghao mumbles quietly. “I… the office, yes. I have an unfinished task.” He nods curtly at the bartender-housekeeper duo. “Good job today. See you later.”

Without waiting for the response from the three of them, Minghao disappears from them. His back appearing smaller and smaller in the distant as he walks hastily towards the exit door, leaving the trio in the entrance of the tunnel.

Jihoon tilts his head, questioning. “What’s up with him? He ran all the way to find you, but he left you hanging.” He rubs his chin in a thinking motion. Then, he turns to face Junhui. “What’d you see anyway? The green light?”

Junhui smiles awkwardly, like he’s keeping a secret, and then shakes his head. “I was probably hallucinating…”

* * *

One swig of the red wine.

One swig to forget the familiarity of the touch.

Another swig of the red wine.

Another swig to ignore the ancient tree in its full bloom.

Minghao shakily brings up the neck of the wine bottle close to his lips, about to take another careless swig when the memories rain down on him, hard and furious, tormenting him, reminding him of the past he wish he’d never had.

_The crown prince steals Myungho’s wooden flask from the bandit’s calloused and rough hands with his soft and velvety ones. He wraps his lips around the flask and drinks the liquid. He then looks out at the ocean, and the bright moonlight casting its glow on the surface of the calm waves._

_“I don’t remember asking for your company.” Myungho bites out, but scoots away to give space for the crown prince._

_The crown prince ignores him, gently reaching up to catch a nearby firefly. They both watch it set free, joining the others hovering over in the dark._

_“Things are different now that you’re with me, Seo Myungho. Drinking alone won’t be enjoyable anymore, because you’ll be waiting for me to show up like I did today.”_

Seo Myungho.

He’s spent the last few decades trying to erase that name from himself. And yet, the name still burns in his memory as he grips the wine bottle tightly, wanting to forgo the memories that shake him up—and send gusts of wind rustling through the leaves of the ancient tree.

_Because you’ll be waiting for me to show up like I did today._

_Joseon, 1392_. He waited patiently, hopefully. He stroked the horses in front of the Guest House of the Moon, dressed in his hanbok, looking out into the streets of the village, hoping and just hoping for a man in blue royal robes to appear.

_Korean Peninsula, 1950._ The sounds of the gunshots were booming in his ears, and the Moon Lodge was busy with the spirits of the soldiers. But Minghao was still holding on to the last piece of hope he had for a man in blue robes to show up in front of the lodge.

_Seoul, 2020._ Minghao had stopped hoping. The faint memories of past love tucked away in the back of his head, and only the resentment is standing strong, guarding what’s left of the affection.

And then.

And then—Moon Junhui.

The ancient tree shakes again when Minghao trembles as the spot where Junhui had touched him burns again with the familiarity of it all—shaken by the uncanny resemblance.

_“Moon Junhui will bring that person to you.”_

Just as he brings up the bottle again to chug the remaining of the red liquid in one breath, a hand stops him. He turns to his side, and is met with the angelic face of the deity, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s stop now, shall we?”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Seungcheol humming happily under his breath at the ancient tree coming into full bloom. He pats the tree trunk, admiring it in all its glory, not giving Minghao any mind.

The hotel owner exhales loudly. “Admire the flowers all you want, and then please leave. Let me be miserable.”

Seungcheol ignores his request, cutting straight to the chase. “Will you let him just pass by? Will you pretend to be clueless?”

Minghao’s blood runs cold, not sure of what Seungcheol is referring to—but it makes him so scared, so scared that the blue flower is almost falling off the branch. “Who… what do you mean?”

Seungcheol’s bright eyes twinkle when he faces Minghao, unwavering stare. “You can’t run away now, Minghao. Because you know he has been by your side all this time.”

Minghao’s blood runs cold again. He thinks of the past few months—ever since a certain main who speaks way too fast, way too direct with his words—Minghao has been the closest he had ever been to ‘happy’. The very same man has soft brown locks, has beauty marks on his face, voice like dripping honey, lips that feel like home, and holy deities, Minghao is floored.

And then Minghao remembers how Junhui had touched him earlier. And— _could it be?_

Seungcheol rummages through the basket that he always carries with him. He takes out an item from his basket. And at the recognition of the item, Minghao’s stomach sinks and drops into a pit very far down.

The hairpin.

The hairpin that once belonged to him. The hairpin that once witnessed the love that blossomed between two people who didn’t belong together, but went against the odds to be with each other. The blood staining the ornament tells a story too, albeit it’s not one that’s pretty. The once pristine ornament tells a bloody story of heartbreak, a betrayal, and a revenge.

Seungcheol throws another look of happiness at the blooming tree, his heart swelling with extreme proudness. “I’ve been keeping that thing of yours safe. So you should… be able to do what you need to do.”

Silence drapes over the garden, deafening Minghao’s ears as his thumb rubs the jagged surfaces of the ornament with all his might that it breaks his skin and draws blood. His teeth grind against each other in his mouth as he throws the question that had been playing in the back of his mind.

“Is it him? Is Moon Junhui _him_?”

Seungcheol’s lack of immediate response scares Minghao even more, some blue petals detach itself from the branches and fall straight onto the floor of the garden. Minghao holds his breath as Seungcheol raises his eyebrow.

“Can you accept it if it’s him?”

The blood runs cold in Minghao’s system again as the possibility of Junhui being _that person_ floods his hazy brain. He grips the ornament tightly, drawing more blood.

Seungcheol sighs. “You don’t seem to be happy even when the man you’ve been waiting for 1000 years is here.” He advises further. “Let go of the hatred, Myungho. You deserve to be happy.”

At the mention of the once forgotten name that carries sins of 1300 years, Seungcheol finds his back thumping softly against the tree trunk and flared up golden eyes staring down at him.

Minghao corners him lowly through gritted teeth. “I asked you. Is Moon Junhui that man?”

Seungcheol smiles softly with a tinge of sadness, patting Minghao’s auburn hair with his free hand before pointing to one spot of the ancient. Minghao’s eyes dart around the garden, following Seungcheol’s gesture.

A firefly.

Instead of a vibrant green, the firefly circles around the blue petals with its dim green light. Frail looking and weak, as if it doesn’t have any more time to spend on earth. As if it’s just waiting until its wings fully give out and it will cease to existence.

Minghao glances back at Seungcheol, thinking that the deity is playing some sort of joke on him. “Are you kidding, right now?”

“How can Moon Junhui be him when Kim Mingyu has been here with you all this time?”

Minghao wavers when all the dots inside his head slowly connect one by one. His grip on Seungcheol loosens as he takes a few steps back. A surge of memories come back to him one by one.

_“Why do you like them so much, Your Highness?” Myungho asks in pure curiosity as the crown prince carefully places the shining firefly inside the earthen jar, placing a white cloth over the lid and smiling at the green flow from the bottom of the jar._

_“Fireflies are majestic. They glow in the night for some time, then they shine brightly at you and swiftly disappear.” The crown prince smiles sadly. “That’s a lot like you and I, isn’t it?”_

_Myungho offers no reply, choosing to look at the swarm of fireflies hovering above them, glowing brightly in the darkness. Then, he nonchalantly says. “Then from now on, when I think of fireflies, I think of you.”_

The room spins around him until finally his legs give in and he buckles down to the floor. A barely audible voice ripples past his throat. “Liar. You liar.”

The blue flowers are born, and they are destined to wither.

The flowers wither one by one, falling onto the ground and disappearing.

Minghao looks up at the ancient tree which is the reflection of his soul, and tears of anger gather around his eyes when the tree continues to rain flower petals which carry all of his feelings of lost love, lost friendship, vengeance, revenge, heartbreak—all of it. Minghao looks at the dim firefly hiding behind the fallen flower petals, and he wants to scream out loud over all of his losses.

All the anger, betrayal, love—all of it left in him roars loud over the garden, not knowing where else to place it.

Seungcheol says with such softness in his voice. “For 1300 years, you’ve never once called out his name.” The firefly flies around the garden, choosing to rest at the very top of the tree. “If you call out his name, he will show himself to you.”

* * *

Jeonghan sits at the very back of the café all by himself. Humming lightly to the soft jazz music in the café, he watches as the tall barista behind the counter works on his drink. The tall, tanned, and handsome male—Jeonghan recalls escorting somebody who had the same spitting image of the barista to the afterlife.

_The man in blue royal robes stopped in his track as they approached Sanzu river. He turned back to face the deity and the accompanying reaper. A small sad smile adorned his lips._

_“Is there something wrong?” Jeonghan had asked in concern._

_The man bit his bottom lip in contemplation before voicing out his request. “There… there is something that I have a promise that I have to fulfill. Is it possible for me to stay back?”_

_Jeonghan and Seungcheol exchanged a meaningful look. The reaper decided to speak against it. “I’m afraid you can’t. Your soul might grow weary and you won’t ever be reincarnated again.”_

_The deity cut him off. “I can let you stay. On one condition. The shell of your body will still be reincarnated, but your soul won’t reside in it until you have fulfilled your promise. If you fail to do it, you will cease to existence.”_

The sound of the barista placing his coffee on the table snaps Jeonghan out of his reverie. He smiles sweetly at the barista while taking a sip of his coffee. He looks over at the barista’s nametag before placing the mug on the table. “Thank you, Mingyu. The coffee is really nice.”

Mingyu nods lightly before scanning Jeonghan’s outfit from top to bottom. Deciding that he can’t stand the itch anymore, he throws the burning question. “Isn’t it too hot to dress in all black?”

Jeonghan lets out a hearty laugh, but secretly wants to bring it up to Seungcheol that it’s very old fashioned of him to still think grim reapers should wear all black in 2020. When his laughter stifles down, he looks at the man in round glasses in the convenience store across the café, busy picking out instant noodles. He points to the man with a slight tilt of his head.

“If I were you, I would’ve asked him out.”

* * *

Junhui runs, bolting down the platform of the hotel like a runner at the start gun. He quickens his pace to an all-out sprint when he reaches the hallway. The slapping noise of his beaten Vans resonate around the walls of the hotel with a clanging echo.

He needs to get to Minghao.

He needs to tell him the truth about what he’d seen. He can’t keep Minghao in the dark when he’d seen what the glimmering green light was all about.

So Junhui runs.

He runs all the way down to the owner’s office, brown locks whipping back and forth with the thick grief and fear he feels as he runs.

Just as he reaches the office, he sees a splash of auburn exiting the office. Junhui shouts. “Minghao!”

A loud thump and Junhui ends up being pushed with his back colliding with the wall. When he opens his eyes, dilated delirious golden irises are staring back at him. Minghao’s sinewy fingers end up around his neck, while the other is high in the air, a long metal poking out from his hold.

A hairpin. With infinity ornament.

Junhui knows he’d seen that before. He smiles a painfully broken smile. “You’re still keeping that with you?”

Minghao’s irises grow even more delirious. “Who are you?” Venom drips off his voice as he raises the ornament even higher in air. This time, the ornament transforms into a dagger. He asks again, with a low voice and tightening the grip around Junhui’s neck.

“Did Seungcheol send the man I’ve hated for a thousand years to me as the man I fell in love with?”

Tears gather around Junhui’s eyes as he reaches up to touch Minghao’s hand. The hotel owner points the dagger to Junhui’s chest. “Answer me. Or I’ll send you to the afterlife!”

Junhui smiles brokenly again. “I told you to trust me, and I promised you, didn’t I? That I’m not going away even if you go crazy.”

Minghao still hasn’t lowered his dagger, not buying Junhui’s words. “As long as there is a possibility that you might be him, I can’t face you.”

Junhui snaps his eyes open, daringly meeting Minghao’s intimidating golden orbs. “Then touch me here, like you did before.” He points to his chest. “Touch me here and tell me if I’m him.”

Without waiting for Minghao’s answer, Junhui takes Minghao’s hand off his neck and places it over his chest where his heart once was. Then a silence folds between the two of them.

It’s different.

_That person_ felt like a warm summer day. His warmth seeped through each and every crevice that Myungho had, warming his heart.

Junhui feels like a safe place. A place where Minghao could free-fall and easily bounce right back up. Junhui doesn’t feel like a summer day. Junhui feels like home.

Realization hits Minghao like a truck, dropping the dagger to his side which has turned into an ornament again. He shakes violently, meeting Junhui’s eyes. “You’re just Moon Junhui.”

Junhui catches Minghao by his waist, pulling him into a hug. There is the hug of gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe, then there is the hug of strong arms that tells everything that you are—body, brain, soul—that they are with you. Junhui is a mixture of both when he hugs Minghao.

Junhui snuggles in. “I promised you.” His arms squeeze a fraction tighter and Minghao breathes more slowly, his body melting into Junhui’s as his every muscle loses its tension to the air.

Minghao built fragile castles out of clay and erected walls around it to keep anyone and everyone out, but Junhui found a way somehow, and made a home out of Minghao’s barricaded castles.

In Junhui’s embrace, Minghao feels safe and as if the flowers have stopped withering. “Please don’t leave me now.” The words hardly manage to break out as the sobs Minghao is holding in choked his voice back.

Junhui’s chin rests on top of Minghao’s head. His arms clench Minghao tighter. He lets Minghao cry into his shoulder. “I saw him too. Inside the tunnel.” Junhui says softly, recalling the earlier events.

Before he’d blacked out, he saw the firefly morphing into an outline of man. Through his blurry eyes, Junhui saw the silhouette of a man he’d seen in his dreams before—blue royal robes, long hair—offering his hand to help Junhui.

Minghao’s fists clench onto Junhui’s hoodie. “I… I can’t face him.”

Junhui tilts Minghao’s chin with the tip of his finger, brushing away the strands of auburn covering the hotel owner’s eyes. Then, he presses the gentlest of kisses on Minghao’s lips.

“The man you’re waiting for is here. You should hear everything that’s happened on the last day. Then, you’ll be able to let go of your resentment.”

* * *

Minghao hesitates, but he stands in front of the ancient tree. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and feeling the wind around him, calming his nerves down. He glances at the weak firefly, takes another deep breath, and wills himself to call out a name he hasn’t spoken in over 1300 years.

For the first time in a millennium, he calls out Kim Mingyu’s name.

“Kim Mingyu, show yourself.”

At first, nothing happens, except the firefly had mysteriously disappeared from the tree. Minghao drums his fingers against his thighs anxiously, and contemplates leaving. Just as he proceeds to turn around and leave, he hears the sound of the dead leaves rustling and a familiar pattern of footsteps.

Minghao turns around again, and sees that a firefly is slowly morphing into a person from behind the tree trunk. It slowly morphs into a tall figure, dressed in a blue crown prince attire, hair flowing in the wind, and a strong smell of chamomiles invades the room.

A few petals wither.

Minghao tries not to break at the sight of a past love and betrayal.

When dulled, yet hopeful eyes meet sullen and sorrowful, the revolutionary happens. Two people in galaxies alienated from each other suddenly collide and reunite for the first time in a millennium. With just one gaze, it’s as if the last 1300 years never took place and they were back in front of the ocean; in love and at peace.

But time doesn’t let itself be taken a hold of, time doesn’t regulate itself to concede with anyone else’s benefit. Actions cannot be revoked, and unfortunately for the two, they’re light years beyond the point of no return.

Minghao tries to keep himself together and not shake with the surge of memories that come flooding into his mind. “Speak. I’ll listen to whatever that you to say.”

Instead of offering a reply, Mingyu catches one of the moonflowers that’s falling mid-air. He grabs it, placing it on his palm, and then offers it to Minghao.

Through hesitation, Minghao takes his palm.

Then, by some force of the mother nature, Minghao feels himself being forced through a very tight invisible tube. He closes his eyes as he feels the wind wrapping itself around him, transporting him to somewhere else—away from 8BAR.

The wind stops, and Minghao no longer feels like he’s in a tight tube. When he opens his eyes again, it’s not the garden at the hotel that greets him. Instead, an awfully familiar place—the lake nearby the palace. Minghao gasps, realizing that he had travelled through time. Before he could make sense of what’s happening, he sees Wonwoo and Mingyu marching to the front of the lake.

_The Prince of Baekje looks as equally distressed as the crown prince. “You have to stop seeing the gisaeng. Somebody attempted to poison the Gongjo, has it slipped your notice that they might think you sent the gisaeng for that matter, your Highness?” Wonwoo grips the railing that separates the land and the lake, refusing to look at Mingyu._

_The crown prince is notorious for being thick-skinned. “The gisaeng—Seo Myungho, you know he has nothing to do with this, my prince.” He pushes, clear desperation in his voice,_

_Wonwoo snaps at the crown prince’s behavior, in utter disbelief at the childishness of somebody who’s set to rule Goryeo in a few years’ time. “Your Highness,” he begins distressfully. “You need to cut off all ties. My father will shift the blame on you for committing treason because of your ties with the gisaeng.” He takes a deep breath. “Will you give up your seat on the throne because of a man?”_

_Mingyu is taken aback by the sudden threat. How is he supposed to choose between his family and the person who’s made him feel warmer than his very own family could ever provide? He grabs a fistful of his robes, deep in thoughts._

_The sound of a branch breaking interrupts the two of them. Wonwoo whirls around to find the source of sound, the royal guards grabbing the hilts of their swords. “Who’s there? Show yourselves!”_

_The royal guards scurry away to the bushes where the sound was heard. There seems to be a person there when the royal guards are struggling to pull something from the bushes. The revelation comes shocking to Mingyu when the two strong guards grab a rather young adult by his clothes, throwing him onto the ground at Wonwoo’s feet._

_Mingyu is mildly alarmed, shifting his gaze when he recognizes Renjun getting into a kneeling position, putting his hands together._

_A smirk of disbelief adorns Wonwoo’s lips. “Who do we have here? A gisaeng not knowing his place and sneaking around listening to conversations?”_

_Renjun rubs his palms together in a begging motion. “Please, I beg of you of your mercy, your Highnesses. Please don’t do anything to Myungho!”_

_A beat of silence eventually follows until Wonwoo’s mind conjures a thought. “Since you’ve listened too much,” he turns to Mingyu. “What do you say if we take him instead of your beloved gisaeng?”_

_Mingyu immediately shakes his head. Myungho adores the young boy, Mingyu would never want to betray him like that. “I choose neither.”_

_Renjun cuts him off, nodding his head violently. “Please, your Highness. Please spare Myungho and take me instead.”_

_Mingyu’s eyes widen, yelling. “Hwang Renjun! Don’t do that—”_

_Wonwoo intervenes coldly. “Very well. Take him to the prison tonight and execute him tomorrow.”_

_Renjun turns to look at Mingyu as he’s dragged away by the guards. “In return for me trading my life, you have to protect Myungho, and live as a betrayer.”_

Reality knocks hard when Minghao is back in the garden, looking confused and hurt and regret—all at once. At some point, Minghao backs himself against the table and slides to his haunches.

And it’s really starting to hit him all at once what happened—that he spent the last 1300 years resenting a man whose only sin was loving him too much. That he spent a millennium plotting a revenge against a man who couldn’t leave because of him.

Suddenly it’s Joseon all over again during the night where Myungho picked up his sword and killed innocent lives. Suddenly it’s watching as the crown prince sag lifelessly to the ground, coughing up blood as Myungho cursed him.

Minghao cries in heartbreak, realizing that Mingyu promised to protect him in his last moments yet it’s Minghao’s words that stopped Mingyu from leaving.

_You need to live through the guilt and watch it all go down before dying a miserable death._

_Myungho, I will carry you with me in my heart, becoming a restless moon and watching over you._

A shower of moonflowers fell down, covering every inch of the ground with blue petals—Minghao feelings of betrayal, revenge, hatred, the blue petals carry all of it, leaving the ancient tree in its original state—no flowers, no leaves, just the peace of having let go of everything.

Minghao stares at his past love—the rock that once grounded him, the sustenance that nourished him, the shoulder he cried on and he tries not to break at the seams. He tries not to break at how Mingyu had been by his side all along, as a small light in his life, while he spent his whole life shrouded in resentment.

“I’ll listen to whatever you’ve wanted to say.”

Mingyu shakes his head, smiling weakly with such longing at Minghao. “I shall make no excuses.”

“You promised Renjun to protect me, yet it’s my words that chained you here.” Minghao whispers, looking at the bare tree. He wipes away the tear that forms in his eyes. “I’ve let go of everything, so you can go now.”

This time, it’s not Kim Mingyu uttering his last words with a sword pierced through his body. This time, Kim Mingyu has a sad smile on his lips as he looks at the man he knew he loved. “This is our end.”

Minghao nods, looking down at the infinity ornament he’s kept in his hand and his tears fall on it, dissolving into gold ash just like a vengeful spirit—taking away all of his pain and hatred and anger with it.

Minghao sees Mingyu’s one last smile before he morphs back into a firefly and Seungcheol appears from behind the tree, catching the firefly as it falls, too weak to go to the afterlife. He says sadly. “If he remains, he will cease to existence and won’t have another life.”

Seungcheol grabs Minghao’s shoulder and gives it a light squeeze, and Minghao thinks he hears _I’m proud of you_ but Seungcheol doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he gives Minghao an order.

“The last punishment for you in this world is to send him off.”

* * *

That night before 12 a.m., Minghao gives a sleeping Junhui a kiss on the lips before he leaves. He grabs something from his pocket—a blue moonflower from the tree, and he tucks it safely into the front of Junhui’s hoodie, close to his chest.

The man doesn’t stir and Minghao is about to half-heartedly head off when he thinks about Junhui getting lonely. He leans down again to place one more kiss, and then one more, and one more, and one more—just because.

He ends up kissing Junhui nine more times and then realizing that fourteen is an unlucky number, he kisses the man again.

And then two more times, telling himself it’s the last. Seventeen seems like a better number than sixteen, so he kisses Junhui again, justifying himself.

Minghao is about to leave when Junhui’s sleepy mumbling knocks the wind out of his lungs again. He thinks it’s an _I love you_.

He hopes.

_You will come back, right?_ Junhui would’ve asked.

_Wait for me._ Minghao would’ve answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for the late update. i'm in my final year of undergrad and life just suddenly got busy. i'll still try to update on a weekly basis if i'm not coding HAHA. thanks for all the support~


	12. Moonflower; i only dream of thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I send them away, the clouds darken.

_All the silhouettes on this street don’t look like you,_

_Pacing back and forth,_

_Waiting for you,_

_Waiting for you,_

_In this night I need you baby._

* * *

_Swipe._

_Swipe._

Junhui mindlessly watches the circular, sweeping motion his hand makes as it goes over the already glossy plane of the coffee table. The sharp odor of the glass cleaner pricks unpleasantly at his nostrils and makes his eyes water but the repetitive polishing helps keep his mind off more painful things.

The office phone rings, and he ignores it. His hands are slick from the wood polish and his heart is worn paper-thin. There just isn’t a single tattered shred of energy left in him to deal with whoever might be calling the office, so he lets it ring unanswered.

_Swipe._

_Swipe._

He’s starting to zone out again when the answering machine comes on. “8BAR. We can’t call you back right now, but we’ll call you back if you leave your contact details.”

It’s nothing but a simple, impersonal message but the velvety voice slips effortlessly through the razor thin crevices in the walls Junhui’s erected. The voice penetrates Junhui’s senses and permeates them—abruptly flooding his empty mind with image of the face the voice belongs to. Junhui tries to stem the flow but the seeds have been planted and they take root and his mind explodes with flashbacks.

_“You do it.” Minghao said, staring at the answering machine on his worktable like it was about to attack him._

_“You’re not about to let me haunt a machine you use to communicated with humans.” Junhui wrapped his arms around Minghao’s narrow waist, nuzzling his face in Minghao’s shoulder._

_“So be it.” Minghao snorted._

_“I’m not going to scare off the tax office with my ghostly presence.” Junhui said as he nibbled on the fairy-like earlobe that had been tempting him for the past ten minutes._

_“But your voice sounds more professional.” Minghao complained._

_Junhui captured his lips in a lingering, seductive kiss. Minghao’s mouth tasted like the black tea he’d been drinking just minutes earlier and Junhui loved the way it tasted on his tongue. They collapsed breathlessly on the sofa in Minghao’s office and as their bodies fell into each other’s, Junhui gazed into the golden depths of Minghao’s eyes._

_Tenderly, his index finger traced the generous curves of Minghao’s lips. “I love your voice the best.”_

A dull ache throbs in the core of Junhui’s chest in the wake of that all-too-vivid memory. It takes a while for him to tuck those away again but he manages somehow.

_Swipe._

_Swipe._

He forces his hand to resume polishing the chestnut wood of the coffee table until the surface is a glassy mirror—completely smooth and perfect, marred only by two solitary salty liquids.

**_It’s been 24 days._ **

****

* * *

The other workers at the 8BAR watch Junhui with great concern as the ghost rams the last bite of toast into his mouth, eyes never leaving the laptop screen in front of him, faithfully working on the taxes of the hotel.

Seokmin nudges Soonyoung in his rib, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting worried. He has been taking up odd jobs at the hotel.”

Soonyoung nods in agreement. “The other day he forced me to take a rest and proceeded to clean all of the rooms.”

They continue to stare at Junhui as he brings up the daffodil yellow coffee mug to his lips, wincing when they touch the hot liquid. Jihoon sighs in pure exasperation. “But Minghao… he isn’t the owner of 8BAR anymore, is he?” The bartender recalls one of his trips to the garden a few days back. “Because the tree is bare now.”

The soft white light of the computer screen illuminating Junhui’s face accentuates his handsome features, albeit the bags under his eyes seem heavier, and his cheeks have sunked by a fair amount.

Seokmin sighs again when Junhui is done downing the last drop of his drink, the bright mug left on the coffee table as he hurriedly closes his laptop and runs off somewhere. He notes sadly. “Wouldn’t that mean… Minghao isn’t coming back?”

No one says anything for a couple of minutes, deep in thoughts of their own and the plausible possibility. 48 days have passed since the hotel owner disappeared from the hotel and when asked, Seungcheol only smiles and says vaguely that Minghao is sending off a guest. The deity gives the, no assurance whatsoever, about when Minghao would be coming back—if he ever does.

Despite all that, Junhui’s trust in Minghao never once trembled or shaken in the uncertainty of when and if he’d be coming back. If he’s not busy taking up odd jobs—manning the front desk with Seokmin, fetching glasses for Jihoon, teasing Seungkwan and Vernon—he’d be found nowhere on the grounds of the hotel.

But they know where Junhui had gone to when he’s finally run out of things to do. Just like right now, they know Junhui will be faithfully waiting in front of the tunnel, for the reaper’s car to be parked there, and for Minghao to walk out of it.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

The reaper walks lazily into the bar space of the lobby, grinning at the trio. “What’s got you kids all huddled up together?”

The trio corner him quickly, sending confusion to Jeonghan’s face. “Wha—”

“Bring Minghao back! We don’t want another hotel owner or a new boss!” Soonyoung starts off. Next to him, Jihoon nods enthusiastically—a rare occurrence, Jihoon and the word enthusiast don’t fit by default.

Jeonghan exhales in frustration. “So that’s what this is all about.” He looks at the three’s hopeful eyes and a pang of guilt hits him. “It’s not my place to bring him back. It’s up to Minghao and his choice, if he wants to come back or not.” He gulps nervously. “When he crosses the bridge, he may forget a lot of things. Including us and this place.” They all turn to look at the remnants of the daffodil yellow mug on the table.

A new voice joins them. “The soul tree is the owner of the hotel now.” The deity greets them, also looking at the yellow mug on the table.

Jihoon furrows his brows together. “But I saw the tree yesterday. All its flowers and leaves have withered. Didn’t you say Minghao will leave this place when that happens?”

“Not all, my sunflowers.” Seungcheol finally turns to look at them. “There are some flowers that Minghao placed inside Junhui’s chest, which now live in his heart.”

The trio and the reaper are thoroughly confused, not understanding the deity’s words. Seungcheol opts for a knowing smile instead of offering an explanation.

_And it would be Myungho’s and Junhui’s choice, to return or to stay when they make it to the crossroad._ He thinks to himself, before cheerfully saying, “Can I get some beer too?”

* * *

Junhui sits cross-legged on the sandy shore and stares at the horizon in front of him. Waves of deep royal blue creeps towards him before running away, only to repeat the process in a cycle that causes droplets of salty water to spray onto his bare, sand-encrusted feet.

But beyond those magical waves is something even more amazing and breath-taking; the sunset. Beautiful smudges of coral, lavender, turquoise and a fiery orange blended together.

The sunset.

_My dear moon._

The moon loved seeing the sun at dawn and dusk, because it was the only time they could ever get close enough—but never close enough to touch, because if they touched—the world would end.

Junhui is the moon, living for the sun, but his sun had gone away, and the reality of the painful truth is finally coming down on him like shards of glass.

Holding back his tears, Junhui sings softly to the ocean.

_It’s only when I’m staring at the sea all alone again_

_Then turning back to only find you are no longer there_

_Leaving me to wander around aimlessly_

_The voids around your absence_

He breathes in the scent of the ocean—the ocean that Minghao loved so much and exhales the acrid air of limited forevers and longing. “I love you.” He mumbles through a held back sob. “I love you in this life and all the ones to come.” He takes a shaky breath before erupting in sobs.

Junhui has witnessed love so many times before, like how he and Wonwoo sat next to each other, arms linking together and sharing books. Like how Wonwoo would whisper into his ear over loud laughter of strangers.

But this love is different. Loving Minghao brings meaning into the word and into his life. And then he realizes that maybe love could also mean being comfortable in silences. Maybe this love is between two wandering souls of the non-alive, brought together in a strange hotel for the dead.

Junhui has all this love for Minghao, but he doesn’t know where to put it now Minghao’s gone.

Minghao showed Junhui a world with him in it, and now Junhui can’t imagine living in a world without Minghao.

**_It’s been 49 days._ **

****

* * *

When Junhui closes the door that leads to the beach-swimming pool behind him, he’s greeted by the sight of the deity standing in front of him, loyally holding a basket filled with white lilies. Seungcheol breaks into a wide smile which instantly brings up Junhui’s hopes.

“Is Minghao back already?”

Seungcheol’s smile drops, and so does Junhui’s hopes. Heartbreak has no outward sound, but it sure was loud in Junhui’s ears when he felt it dropping to the deepest pit of his stomach.

“I have a favor to ask of you, though.”

Junhui immediately loses interest, but feigns it anyway. “What is it?”

“I’m brewing a concoction,” Seungcheol takes out a vial filled with dark liquid from his basket. “I need you to fetch me a moonflower, which we’ve ran out of.”

Skepticism immediately clouds Junhui’s brain, bringing up his arms to cross them across his chest. “Why don’t you ask Joshua or Jeonghan?”

A mischievous yet sincere smile hangs off Seungcheol’s lips. “Because you’re special.”

Junhui is still not buying it. If anything, he’s learnt that the deity, the reaper, and the manager always have some things up their sleeves and trust is to not be earned quickly.

Seungcheol seems to sense the unwillingness. He takes out the bait, fully knowing that Junhui would bite it. “The last time the moonflower bloomed, this hotel was called Guest House of the Moon. Go back to Joseon, and find the moonflower.”

Junhui almost instantly catches the bait. Holding his breath as he mentally counts the years. If Joseon was 300 years ago, that would mean he has the choice of—

“Will Minghao be there?” He holds his breath again as he waits for Seungcheol to respond.

The deity brightens up. “Of course. He has been the owner for 1300 years after all.”

A relief.

A chance to see Minghao again. Without actually saying out loud the agreement, Junhui nods fervently.

“Go around the soul tree, and you will find the entrance to Guest House of the Moon. Whatever you do there, don’t drink or eat anything. Else, you will never come back.”

* * *

When Junhui goes around the soul tree, his jaw drops in awe when his eyesight is greeted by the tall main gate of the _hanok_. On top of the gate is a wooden signboard with _hanja_ that reads Guest House of the Moon. Gathering his courage, Junhui pushes open the gate which opens the _anchae_ and the courtyard. In the middle of the courtyard is the recognizable Soul Tree.

But, its state is bare.

Confusion is written all over Junhui’s face because he specifically remembers Seungcheol’s order is to take the moonflower from the tree. Before Junhui could inspect the tree further, a familiar voice greets him.

“Who may you be?”

Junhui whirls his head around, non-beating heart almost jumping in his chest when he hears the voice again. When he turns his body, he is met by the sight of the man he’s missed the most.

_Joseon_ Minghao looks dashing in his _hanbok._ The light blue _dopo_ contrasts well with the midnight blue _jeonbok_ that’s draped over it. His jet-black waist length hair cascades freely over his shoulders, evening light shining through the silky locks and accentuating his pale skin.

Junhui could almost cry.

2020 Minghao has all the long hair chopped to a sensible length, shyly touching the nape of his neck and auburn in color. 2020 Minghao has skin that is of golden hue. But many things stay the same. The scar above his eyebrow, and the beauty mark near his eye.

“Minghao.” Unknowingly, Junhui calls out his name like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

However, Minghao takes a few steps back, _taesahye_ crunching against the sandy ground as his eyes flash in surprise. “Who are you? How do you know of my name?”

Junhui is about to answer Minghao but is cut off by the sudden booming of a new familiar, ricocheting through the courtyard.

“Xu Minghao! Where are you? Come out now and pay your debts!”

Minghao looks distressed when he hears the voice. Without any warnings, he grabs Junhui by his clothes and quickly leads them to the _toenmaru_. He peeks through the one of the pillars, and Junhui follows suit—he sees _Joseon_ Seungcheol circling the soul tree in distress.

“Oh? That’s Seung—”

Minghao clasps a hand over Junhui’s mouth, preventing from speaking, then he peeks out to check on Seungcheol. He releases his hand from Junhui’s mouth when he finds out that Seungcheol is gone, and exhales a sigh of relief. Then, he turns his attention back to Junhui, full of skepticism.

“You,” He points to Junhui. “Did you come to collect the debt?” He drops to his knees, bringing his palms together in a begging motion. “Please give me until the full moon and I promise to pay you by then!”

Junhui’s eye twitches in confusion. But after a few beats, it’s finally starting to make sense when he scans his surroundings. The beautiful pond in front of the annex looked expensive. He squints to the back of the annex and he sees stables filled with horses. On the side of the annex rest rows and rows of earthen pots, and Junhui could only guess they’re filled to the brim with alcohol.

It correlates with 2020 Minghao’s ways of enjoying the finer things in life.

Junhui quickly turns to ask the hotel owner. “Did you owe someone money to afford all these things?”

The pale of Minghao’s cheeks is replaced by a deep shade of crimson when Junhui catches him off guard like that. “Who may you be, to question me like that?”

Junhui’s eyes widen in surprise—how is it that many hundred years have passed and that Minghao’s spending habits are still the same. Junhui’s about to reprimand him for getting into another money issues again when Seungcheol’s voice ricochets through the annex once again.

“I come from a faraway place, and you won’t recognize me.”

Minghao hastily pulls back Junhui so that they both would be hidden behind the pillar. Sighing tiredly, Minghao says in a whisper. “I lost in a gamble a few full moons ago. And now he,” Minghao points to the deity who has his hands on his hips while he squints through the sunlight to search for the hotel owner. “He won’t stop tormenting and taking my money!”

Junhui pinches the bridge of his nose when he realizes that Minghao has squandered his money with this new gambling habit. If it’s up to him and if this was 2020 Minghao, Junhui would’ve scolded him. But as he watches Minghao peeking from the behind pillars, he feels a nagging urge to help him out.

Deep sigh. Junhui walks out of their hiding spot, and marches towards the center of the annex. Behind him, Minghao calls him back in a distressed voice, but Junhui ignores him and approaches the deity.

Seungcheol notices him, and with a knit of his eyebrows, he asks. “Young man, are you a new guest here? I have not seen you around before.”

Junhui bows deeply, and introduces himself when he stands straight again. “I come from the future.”

That earns an eyebrow raise from the deity. Junhui continues. “I’m a tasker sent by Seungcheol, to collect the moonflower.” He says, pointing to the bare tree in the courtyard.

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow again at Junhui’s extensive knowledge. “And why have you approached me, my sunflower?”

Junhui cracks a tiny smile, glancing momentarily at the hotel owner hiding behind the pillar, locks of black hair flowing softly in the wind. “He’s someone very dear to me. Could you leave him be? I don’t want to see him to experience anymore hardship.”

Junhui knows he’s reaching for the stars when he asks a deity to leave, but for Minghao, he figures its worth a try.

A sly smile. “In return, what do I get?”

A small lump form in Junhui’s throat when he remembers the soul tree in its full blossom, and then in its bare state, and then Minghao’s disappearance. “I, Moon Junhui, made sure that the soul tree bloomed its flowers and withered them all.”

Junhui saying his name catches Seungcheol’s attention instantly. He repeats slowly the name. “Moon Junhui, you said?” He’s quiet for a few moments, as if battling with an inner turmoil before eventually nodding. “Very well then, Moon Junhui.”

Without Junhui having the chance say thank you to Seungcheol, the deity disappears into the gust of wind, away from the premise of the guest house, leaving behind only a few petals of white lilies.

Minghao runs out of his hiding spot to Junhui, holding him by his arms with delirious eyes but he lets out a squeal of glee. “How did you do that? Why does that old _Mago_ favor you so much?”

Minghao’s eyes are bright and lit up when he looks at Junhui. He cuts the ghost off with another enthusiastic offer. “Come inside, will you? I will offer you a drink.” He grabs Junhui’s hand and skips happily to the _sarangchae_ not too far from the annex.

This Minghao isn’t dressed in overfit coats, and a scarf around his neck.

This Minghao doesn’t have a wire frame round glasses resting on the tip of his nose.

This Minghao is slightly different from _his_ Minghao, but Junhui has to admit his warm smile seeps through the crevices of Junhui’s non-beating heart the same.

When they reach the _sarangchae_ , Minghao proudly announces to the staffs there—Junhui smiles a little when he recognizes Jihoon in his red _hanbok_ , and Soonyoung in his yellow _hanbok._

_At least there are still reliable people taking care of his Minghao here._

* * *

Over the course of 30 minutes, Junhui finds himself sitting down on the expensive cushion while the three gape at him from across, only a small wooden table between them. Junhui clears his throat, attempting to inquire about Minghao’s gambling problem.

“Why did you pick up gambling?”

Minghao winces. “It was only for fun,” He glares at his staffs snickering behind him, the duo quickly settles down, hiding the leftover snickers behind coughs. “I will quit once I have earned back my losses.”

Junhui rolls his eyes, having gone through this before with _his_ Minghao. He sternly orders. “No. You have to quit now.”

Just like _his_ Minghao, this Minghao is also stubborn and possessive when it comes to his lifestyle. “We need the money to keep this guest house running!”

Junhui knows that’s a lie. He points to the petals of white lilies that Seungcheol left behind in the courtyard. “That, that what keeps the hotel running.”

Minghao is taken aback, looking impressed by Junhui’s knowledge and as if he’s met his match.

Jihoon decides to cut in. “Our lodgekeeper passed away not too long ago, and Minghao coped by gambling.” Soonyoung finishes off for him. “He used a gambler ghost to help him cheat, and _Mago_ found out. _Mago_ punished him by taking all of our money.”

Minghao refuses to look at Junhui, and Junhui feels like they’d been here before—when he asked Minghao to give up on his cars. “Are you the new lodgekeeper that _Mago_ has sent us?”

Junhui blinks confusedly, realizing that Joshua is indeed nowhere to be found. “No, I just came from a faraway land.”

The trio nods understandingly, seemingly zoning out as they stare at Junhui’s graphic tee. “Where you come from, do they worship felines?”

Junhui blinks in confusion again, looking down at his graphic tee. He’s wearing his black Bronze Lucia t-shirt, the one with a cat dressed in a medieval attire. He rubs his nape awkwardly, nodding. “Yes, cats are our gods.”

Soonyoung’s seem to shine brightly. “Felines like tigers, too?”

Jihoon glares at him from the side. He excuses themselves, pinching Soonyoung by the end of his _hanbok_ sleeve. “Please excuse us while we prepare the meal.”

When left alone, Minghao doesn’t say anything, still not looking at Junhui. Junhui takes charge by grabbing the parchment paper and the ink container with the brush under the table. He begins scribbling on the paper, Minghao’s interest piqued when he watches each every Junhui’s strokes.

When he’s done, he turns the paper upside down so Minghao could read it.

_Gambling Contract_

_This contract serves as an agreement between Xu Minghao and Moon Junhui. It becomes effective on 1720 Joseon._

_The client, Xu Minghao hereby agrees to comply by the following terms and conditions._

  1. _Quitting gambling as soon as possible._
  2. _Sell the horses to repay the debts._
  3. _To not be involved in any gambling activities ever again._
  4. _To stop buying unneeded things for the guest house._



_If the contract is breached, Moon Junhui will have the authority to call Mago and punish Xu Minghao again._

_Client: Date: 1720 Joseon_

Minghao’s face contorts into a distasteful displeasure when he reads that he has to sell his horses. Junhui grabs Minghao’s palm and dunks it in the pan of ink, and then he places it on top of the contract, smiling in satisfaction when he sees the handprint coming out nicely.

“You have to abide by this, because I sent Seung— _Mago_ away today.”

Minghao sighs again, but his lips crack into a smile. “I am deeply thankful to you, therefore,” He pushes his sleeves back, holding out his hand to Junhui. “I shall offer my wrist as a collateral if I don’t abide your words.”

Junhui smiles again, leaning forward to touch Minghao’s long locks, and almost presses his lip on the man’s forehead before he catches himself.

Dusk fades in quicker than Junhui thought when he’s spent all day in Joseon. He only realizes its already nighttime when he can’t see the soul tree from the _sarangchae_ anymore, and he figures its about time he leaves the place.

“Instead of gambling, why don’t you try out tea making?” Junhui suggests. “ _Yuja cha_ when it’s winter, _Memil cha_ when it’s spring, things like that. You should find other interests.”

Minghao looks around the empty courtyard, as if contemplating if it can be turned into a garden where he could grow his own tea leaves. “Will this be more entertaining than gambling?”

Junhui assures him with a huge smile. “It will be fun. Enough to keep you occupied for the next 300 years.”

“Have you tried making all these teas?”

Junhui’s thought brings him the image of _his_ Minghao picking out tea leaves in his office, grinding them and drinking peacefully, listening to the sound of nature and he confirms it. “I’ve drank them with someone.”

Jihoon comes in time to serve Junhui a bowl of reddish looking drink, a few petals of roses floating on top of it. Minghao pushes it closer to Junhui.

“Stay here, experience this new hobby with me and you can also be the new lodgekeeper at this guest house.” Minghao pleads, unbeknownst to him a few blue petals bloomed on the very top branch of the soul tree.

Junhui falls in love, just like that, just like before, just like always. Minghao, in all of his lives, makes it so easy.

Temptation gets to the best of Junhui as he raises the bowl. _If I drink this, I can be with Minghao without having to worry if he’ll ever disappear._

The other part of him replays Seungcheol’s warning like a broken record.

_Whatever you do there, don’t drink or eat anything. Else, you will never come back._

The temptation to stay is strong. If he stays he will never have to worry about Minghao disappearing out of his sight, leaving him reeling.

But Junhui has somebody waiting for him somewhere. Pouty lips and sharp jawline and auburn hair and lanky figure and Junhui wants it to last. 

_Joseon’s_ Minghao’s smile falters on his face and Junhui shakes his head apologetically, putting down the bowl of drink and making the moonflowers fall to the ground.

“I have a special someone.” He admits. “I need to return to where I come from because I’m waiting for someone, a person I love very much.”

Regret is full in Minghao’s voice. “I regret this missed opportunity.”

Junhui looks at him one last time at the _sarangchae_ before proceeding to walk to the annex, acknowledging it. “I may regret this opportunity later too.”

When he goes to collect the moonflowers that have fallen onto the ground, he encounters Seungcheol leaning against the tree trunk, a teasing smile on his lips. “If you leave now, all of his memories of you in _Joseon_ will be erased.” Another smile. “But if you stay, you could be with him for 300 years more.”

He playfully quips. “The choice is yours to make, Moon Junhui.”

Gathering the last petals of the moonflower, Junhui shakes his head weakly at Seungcheol’s playful temptations. He takes one last look at _Joseon_ Minghao, looking sullen as he looks out into the darkness of the night, and Junhui exits the guest house.

* * *

The walk to the end of the bridge had been long, Minghao thinks he’s lost track of time. Alongside the track of time, Minghao also thinks he’s lost some of his memories.

The oldest one.

_A small, terrified young boy no older than six called out in desperation. “Is there anybody out there? Please help my brother!” He continued screaming. Next to him is a boy, who seemed a little older than he was, lying weakly on the grounds of the forest, face turning blue and succumbing to death._

_“Injun-ah, hyung gave you the food because you need to live well.” The older boy said slowly._

_“Please hold on a bit more. I will look out for help!” The small boy stood up and raced through the forest, leaving behind his plaything of a wooden board with engravings on it._

_Myungho. Injun._

The most painful one.

_The crown prince refused to look at him, eyes cold and hard on the boy in white robes in the center of the palace ground. The boy had thick rope wrapped around his neck, standing on a platform, smiling sadly at the man who was begging for his life to be spared._

_The prince of Baekje says in a flat voice. “Why should I trust the words of a bandit? This gisaeng was found guilty of stealing the possessions of the noblemen. Execute him!”_

_The platform opened, and the boy fell right through it._

_“Hwang Renjun!”_

Walking through the bridge, Minghao doesn’t know what exact memories he had lost, but he knows that he has felt lighter ever since—almost as if there is no more burden on top of his shoulders.

Walking alongside of him is the crown prince, holding one of Seungcheol’s white lilies. Minghao looks ahead of him and nearly sees the end, and while there is gravity that pulls him towards the end, there is some force that’s pulling him back.

He comes to a halt suddenly, and Mingyu holds out his hand to Minghao, as if asking him to come along—to the world of peace where he no longer has to recall horrible things that had happened in the past 1300 years.

Minghao looks up at Mingyu and smiles serenely.

_Man with silk hair and chocolate eyes and faded lips of satin._

Minghao smiles at all the shared memories he had with Mingyu—only the happy ones underneath the moonlight. He leaves Mingyu’s hand in the air then he turns away from him, walking back the way he came.

At first it was a few steps faster.

The Minghao is full on running.

Junnie.

_Junnie._

_His moon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fret not, this is not the end yet! :)
> 
> quotes from the beginning is taken from minghao's night and rain. 
> 
> the song junhui sang is down in sandbar (stream his cover!)


	13. Jasmine; i am too happy [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their time together is finite and running out. But Junhui finds an infinite time of forever in every smile Minghao gives him.

_What is love? 'Tis not hereafter,_ _  
Present mirth hath present laughter,  
What's to come is still unsure.  
In delay there lies no plenty,  
So come kiss me sweet and twenty,  
Youth's a stuff will not endure._

* * *

Upon his return to the garden of the modern-day Guest House of the Moon, Junhui finds Seungcheol waiting for him, sitting down and knitting his ball of yarn near what used to be a tree full of beautiful blue moonflowers. The deity smiles at the approaching ghost, setting aside his knitting needle.

“How was it?”

Junhui stares at him blankly. “Pretty. He was pretty.” He fishes out a handful of the blue moonflowers from the front pocket, placing them in front of the deity who quickly sweeps them into his basket.

Just as Junhui is about to leave, Seungcheol stands up to touch the trunk of the tree. “The hotel is slowly losing its energy.” He says. “You know what that means.”

Junhui clenches his fists against his thighs, _he knows what that means_. And he thinks about the lingering touch that Soonyoung and Jihoon share when Jihoon passes Soonyoung a glass. An imagery of Joshua stealing kisses from Seokmin when they think no one is looking pops into his mind. Lastly, he thinks about Vernon and Seungkwan coming back from their adventure in the outside world, laughing, hand in hand.

Even Jeonghan’s got somebody to hold—Junhui knows the reserved fond look Jeonghan has for Seungcheol.

He clenches his fists even tighter when he thinks about having to leave without the one he loves the most. He tries to ignore the sound of whatever that’s left of his non-breathing heart cracking. First it’s a small crack, then eventually it becomes a huge gap, and then it shatters into tiny little bite-sized pieces on the 49th day of Minghao’s disappearance.

All uncertainty washes away with the sound of Seungcheol’s voice. “Let’s celebrate first, though.”

Junhui looks at him, confusion etched on his face. “What d’you mean?”

The deity’s lips curl into a tiny smile. “Go to the platform. He’s back, all in one piece.”

And Junhui runs, the dry and humid summer’s day air colliding into his skin as he bolts out of the garden to the platform. His feet pound against the tile, running as quickly as his legs can carry him. The loud sound of his footfall resonating off the walls of the hallway with a clanging echo match the throbbing feeling inside his chest with the longing that he feels as he runs.

True to Seungcheol’s words, there is the reaper’s black limousine parked in the entryway to the tunnel. Junhui feels like his lungs could burst in anticipation as the backdoor opens slowly. When the door opens, the face that Junhui has come to love the most greets him.

Minghao slowly climbs out of the limousine, taking his black Chanel felt and grosgrain hat off, revealing his face.

“Minghao!” Junhui calls out, rushing towards him instinctively and pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Junhui, I’m right here.”

“Minghao, Minghao, Minghao…”

Junhui collapses in a pile of tears and sobs into Minghao’s chest. Minghao returns the embrace patiently, providing the most secure hug he can offer, one hand around Junhui’s waist and the other rubbing his back. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“I missed you.” Junhui mumbles, and the rest of the words he’d drafted out inside his head during Minghao’s disappearance refuse to come out. _I was worried you wouldn’t come back. Why would you suddenly leave me like that without a warning? What if I lost you on the bridge? What if you couldn’t come back? The only thing that I have, that you have, is each other. Don’t do that again. I love you, and I was so scared._ “I missed you.”

“I miss you too.”

“What if you lost memories of me?” Junhui chokes out, cleaving to Minghao’s shirt.

Minghao’s lips morph into a beam, bringing up his fingers before flicking Junhui’s forehead. “Didn’t I make a promise to keep your memories to the very end?” His gaze holds heavy fondness as he looks at Junhui. “My promises, I don’t break them.”

Junhui pulls away for a second, holding Minghao’s cheeks as he furrows his eyebrows. “Then as a test, do you choose your wine cellar and cars or Moon Junhui?”

Minghao’s bright, high pitched laughter booms in the platform. The sound echoing through the tunnel and sending some of it into Junhui’s chest too. “Of course you, silly.”

Junhui rubs his chin. “How many cars do you have left?”

The weight of Junhui’s question suddenly sinks into Minghao’s brain. His pupils shake and Junhui watches the panic across his golden orbs.

“Don’t tell me you sold more when I was away!”

_His_ Minghao is definitely back.

* * *

Junhui finds a peculiar kind of beauty in the familiar sound of Minghao pouring the red wine into his glass. Counting 1,2,3 as he pours the liquid along the inside of the glass, the wine rushing around it violently and aerating it. Then, he picks it up and swirls it around before taking a sip and closing his eyes in bliss.

A tiny smile finds its way to his lips when he’s reminded of the beautiful man he’d met 300 years ago as he looks at the red liquid. “You know, I regret rejecting a drink from this really pretty man while you were away.”

Minghao stops drinking, opening one eye as he looks at Junhui through his wine glass. He sets it down, dabbing his lips with a handkerchief before sounding completely unfazed. “I don’t believe you.”

Junhui knows jealousy when he hears one.

“He was _sooo_ pretty.” Junhui smiles mischievously.

Minghao puts down his wine again and uncrosses his legs, sliding his palms over his thighs. Junhui thinks Minghao has excellent thighs. He has an excellent everything, really. “Come over here.”

“Okay.” Junhui says unsuspectingly before moving over to Minghao’s side of the sofa.

“Hi.” Minghao says when Junhui sits next to him. Suddenly, he smiles and slides his fingers through Junhui’s hair. The sudden action makes Junhui bite back a moan because _it’s so good_ when Minghao lightly touches him like that. 

Deities, he’s getting hard already. All Minghao is doing is running his thin fingers through Junhui’s hair and even that goes straight to Junhui’s dick.

Minghao then stands, dropping onto his knees between Junhui’s spread thighs. “Why don’t you go to that _pretty man_?” He asks. His voice is a low murmur which slides through Junhui’s veins and makes his body heat up.

“No.” Junhui shakes his head, leaning into Minghao’s hand when it slips to his cheek.

“Why not? Thought you regret rejecting his drink?” Minghao tips Junhui’s chin so their eyes meet.

Junhui swallows and holds Minghao’s gaze. “Because I’m yours.”

A small smile plays over Minghao’s lips before unbuttoning Junhui’s jeans slowly, taking his time. He leans forward and takes Junhui in his mouth, sucking him to full hardness. A whine escapes Junhui’s throat when he feels himself thickening and hardening against Minghao’s tongue.

Junhui pushes his hands into Minghao’s auburn hair and guides him down, holding him in place and letting out more whines as Minghao works his tongue and his mouth until his jaw aches and Junhui is slick with saliva and precum trickling from his slit.

“I’m yours and yours only.” Junhui’s voice is rough and broken, fingers twisting around Minghao’s hair as he thrusts into Minghao’s eager mouth.

The hotel owner looks up at him, bright eyes, releasing suction from his dick with an explicit sound. While pressing his lips against the underside of Junhui’s shaft, he smirks before kissing Junhui’s dick. Then he presses another kiss, except this time lower, and a few more trailing down Junhui’s balls.

Minghao licks a long stripe up the shaft, then around the head before taking it all in again, leaning into Junhui’s hands which yank him forward. He feels Junhui’s dick at the back of his throat and relaxed, tears of pleasure already pricking at his eyes, his own cock hard and heavy in his boxers.

Minghao’s tongue flick back and forth across the sensitive little flesh underneath the head, feeling Junhui’s dick pulsating in his mouth. Junhui bucks up, pressing himself deeper into Minghao’s mouth.

The hotel owner hollows his cheeks and sucks, pushing as far forward as he can, tongue flattening out along the vein at the base of Junhui’s dick. He wraps his fingers around what his mouth can’t reach and starts to move faster again.

There is a blissed look in Junhui’s eyes, drifting away to the feeling of Minghao stretching his plush lips around Junhui’s girth, swallowing him whole and almost reaching his high. When he opens his eyes to look down, he sees Minghao’s hazy eyes and glistening thick lips making obscene sound and he groans.

“Gonna be so good to you.” Junhui coos breathlessly, head resting against the back of the sofa. “Won’t look at anyone but you.” The words get lost in his throat when Minghao swirls his tongue beneath his hood.

The room is quiet, aside from the lewd sounds of spit slicking along Junhui’s cock and sucking it until Junhui is growling out moans that have shrill spikes pulsing through Minghao’s veins.

Junhui’s hips jut a few times, moans leaving his lips in a blissed out manner until it was only the head of his dick in Minghao’s mouth. Junhui tugs at his shaft, fast and rough as he hold Minghao’s head back by his hair. Loud, scratchy groans emit from his throat once he releases his member from Minghao’s mouth and begins jerking himself, busting thick white ropes of pleasure all over Minghao’s face.

Streaks of white paint Minghao’s face as Junhui slows down on his hand-work, rubbing his overly sensitive dick now against Minghao’s smooth skin as he comes down from his high. He hisses at the sensitivity, but his dick feels good lightly skimming over Minghao’s cheek.

Eventually, he pulls Minghao to sit on his lap. “Your turn, _pretty boy._ ” He presses the male to his chest since he cannot make out Minghao’s face.

Minghao whimpers lightly as he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and his dick springs out, the delicious friction of the cloth rubbing his frenulum makes him gasp as he shimmies out of his boxers, leaving it to pool around his ankle lifelessly as he gets back to straddling Junhui’s thigh.

Having Junhui in his mouth got Minghao hot and bothered, evident in the way that he rubs himself against Junhui’s bare thighs. The heat from the man and the god damn friction makes Minghao pant even more over his aching leaky cock. He throws his head back as he continues straddling Junhui, thrusting his cock lightly on the ghost’s thigh.

Junhui groans even more when he feels Minghao’s precum smeared all over his skin as he pins the hotel owner between his legs now. He reaches for Minghao’s dick with his hand, giving him slow tantalizing strokes. A loud gasp leaves Minghao’s mouth when Junhui purposely swipes his thumb under the head of his dick.

Junhui then proceeds to leave trails of kisses on the side of Minghao’s neck, sucking lightly on the pale exposed skin. With a slow pace, he thumbs that one vein on the underside of Minghao’s cock that he knows would drive the other crazy. Then his tongue moves up the fairy like ear, nibbling on the earlobe as his wrist begins to pick up pace and moves tirelessly up and down Minghao’s length, reducing him to an incoherent mess of moans.

“Wanna cum so bad…” Minghao whines repeatedly, leaning back into Junhui’s chest as he thrust into Junhui’s fist enclosed around his dick, tipping over his orgasm and grabbing Junhui’s knees when he’s overridden with pleasure.

He whines loudly again when the cold tips of Junhui’s fingers creep its way underneath his shirt and brush lightly on his erect nipples, causing his already leaky cock to secrete even more precum, dripping onto the leather sofa.

“Not gonna last long…” Minghao reaches down with his own fingers to touch his taint area—his most sensitive area, and if stimulated enough, he could cum just from that alone. With the combination of Junhui flicking his nipples relentlessly, breathing hot breath into his ears, fisting his dick, and Minghao pressing softly against his taint area—Minghao’s breath comes out ragged before he stills his movement, heat collecting in the pit of his stomach.

His orgasm approaches in hot white spurts, ripping through his body and coating Junhui’s fingers in thick white ropes of cum. He curls his toes as his dick pulsates deliciously, his hole clenching around the nothingness each times the spurt leaves his slit.

Junhui chuckles breathlessly as the hotel owner falls limp, sinking into his chest. He presses a kiss on the side of Minghao’s face and wants to laugh at the mess they’d caused—Minghao’s face is full of Junhui’s cum, and Minghao had managed to cover a good portion of the black sofa with his own cum.

“ _Let’s bathe._ ”

* * *

That night, they lie together in Junhui’s bed as they look at the stars from the ceiling window that Junhui’d requested. Junhui and Minghao opt for memorizing each other, forehead against forehead as they will to lose themselves in unlinking gazes and even breaths and entangled fingers.

Somewhere along the way, Minghao has mentioned how much sleepier he has gotten ever since his return from Sanzu river. _The hotel is slowly losing its energy._ Junhui’s words fight to be free, but his mouth cannot find the sound.

Instead, Junhui moves closer, wrapping delicate arms around Minghao’s tiny waist and nuzzles closer. Minghao no longer smells like a field of chamomile flowers. He smells like… Junhui can’t quite pinpoint it, but he smells _distant_.

“You okay?”

“Mhm hm.”

Junhui hears a lie when it breaks.

They stay like that for a while, delicate arms around Minghao’s suddenly fragile frame, Junhui’s nose nuzzled into the crook of the other’s neck. Minghao turns around and kisses him.

“I love you, Moon Junhui.”

“I love you too, Xu Minghao.”

Worries nag at his ear, a tug of _I missed you, and I will miss you even more_.

“Seungcheol made me fetch the moonflowers. Guy said he was gonna brew something.” Junhui says, lightly tracing out the slope of Minghao’s nose. He leaves out the bit of going back to _Joseon_ and meeting the _pretty man_. The fact that Minghao’s wrist is still intact is enough proof that he didn’t continue his gambling habit.

Minghao doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. A sigh. “The moonflower drink. He’s searching for a new owner.”

“The stars will always be the same.” He says next, not going further into the moonflower topic and points to the sky.

Junhui blinks, bit confused by the sudden topic change as he stares at Minghao who is gazing intently at the sky. “What?”

“The stars,” Minghao repeats. “The stars will always be the same.” He guides Junhui’s arm to point to a series of stars. “Eridanus.” Then he points to another constellation. “Horologium.”

“Wherever you are, you will always see those two. In whatever life that there is to come, the stars will always be the same. Remember that, remember me, and find me.”

Junhui honestly doesn’t want to know where this is going, because he feels like he does. He never should’ve said anything, shouldn’t have pointed out to Minghao about what’s going to happen after they both cross Sanzu river and eventually the bridge.

“I love you too much.” He blurts out suddenly. “Let’s just enjoy what time gives us.”

Minghao feels Junhui’s fear, and he hides his under a sniffle. “For whatever time that is left, let’s wake up next to each other.”

“Let’s see the first snow together.” Junhui doesn’t realize it, but the corners of his eyes are wet with tears. “If we walk out together during the first snow—we’d be each other’s true loves, that’s how it goes.”

Minghao nods fervently, cupping Junhui’s face with his now cold hands. “We’re going to see the first snow and exhaust every museum and aquarium and zoo.” He lies through his teeth. He knows his 1300 years old human vessel is slowly succumbing to the reality of afterlife, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to see winter with Junhui, but he prays on that to every deity that’s hearing him out there.

He lets himself drift to sleep as he thinks about bringing Junhui to every art centre in Seoul. He thinks about how in another life—they would be normal humans and normal lovers without having to worry about disappearing. Their time together is finite and running out. But Minghao finds an infinite time of forever in every smile that Junhui gives him.

Horologium. The pendulum that was once frozen in time. But the pendulum has started to move again, is what Minghao fails to see.

While Eridanus and Horologium always appear in the same sky, that night Horologium doesn’t.

* * *

Seungcheol carefully stirs the concoction that’s coming up to a gentle simmer and tosses a handful of moonflowers into the pot. Jeonghan strides in quietly, watching the deity work on his brew before deciding to speak up.

“Minghao and Junhui will leave together in a few days, won’t they?”

Seungcheol gently shrugs his shoulders, turning off the stove and taking the pot off the heat, cooling down the concoction. “We don’t know that. When faced with a more feasible option, what would they choose?” He asks, grabbing the glass bottle from his cupboard.

“What, you mean if Minghao decides to drink the moonflower drink and become the hotel owner again? To be with Junhui?” Jeonghan asks, smoothly reaching for the bottle and places it into Seungcheol’s hold.

The deity smiles momentarily before scrunching up his nose. “Mhm. But I don’t think my kid would enjoy it the second time. He threw such a fit the first time he had to drink this.”

Seungcheol lets himself be lost in memories for a few seconds.

_“I came to search for the Guest House of the Moon, where is it?” Myungho had asked the wandering deity._

_“Did somebody die?” The deity was amused, taking note of the sack that the man was carrying behind his back. And he became even more amused at the crowd of spirits behind him. “The only people who can find this place are people who have killed before or is going to kill somebody. Which one are you?”_

_Myungho drew his sword in front of the deity, “Tell me where the guest house is or I’ll cut off your tongue.”_

_“How many spirits lies in that sack?”_

_Myungho started to tear up, and sadly admitted. “He died for me.”_

_The deity wasn’t going down, continued to ask. “And how many did you kill for him?”_

_Myungho drew his sword again, short temperedness getting to the best of him. “Quit all of that and tell me where the place is!”_

_The deity shook his head in pity, pulling out a wooden flask from his robes and handed it to the bandit. “Drink this. And you’ll find the Guest House of the Moon.”_

_Myungho forcefully took it from the deity and gulped it down, stopping after one sip at the vile taste of the liquid burning through his throat. “Ack! What is it that you gave me?”_

_“You silly, self-pitying human. The moonflower drink will only taste bitter when the drinker holds many grudges. Unknowingly you’ve walked into the place of your punishment.”_

Seungcheol is snapped out of his reverie when Jeonghan taps the glass bottle lightly, reminding him that the brewed drink has cooled down enough. The reaper seems to be in deep thoughts when he decides to speak again. “However, don’t you think their time together is too short? How… unfair.”

Reaper’s words garner no response as the deity carefully pours the dark liquid into the glass bottle and puts on the cap halfway through, letting the steam escape. He faces Jeonghan again. “Letting go has always been harder than holding on, I agree.”

A look of solemn overwrites his face as he continues. “But we don’t know what might happen in their other lives. For all we know, they could be together again.”

Jeonghan’s face contorts into a disagreement when Seungcheol’s thoughts deviate from his. “They’re guaranteed multiple lives—but, are they guaranteed to be with each other in every life? We don’t know that.”

And then Seungcheol brightens up, cradling Jeonghan’s face. “Jeonghannie, they found each other in the past. Don’t you remember? They’ll find each other again.”

* * *

_Jeonghan and Seungcheol looked at the nearly dead boy and his younger brother in pity. The older boy’s lips were turning blue, and his skin had a pale tinge to it. Next to them were the last traces of food and the younger boy was desperately crying to keep his brother warm._

_Jeonghan shook his head, facing to turn the deity. “Shall I do it now? He won’t last an hour, at this rate.”_

_And Seungcheol knew that. By the looks of it, the boy would die out of starvation and hyperthermia—the rag over his body wouldn’t be able to keep him warm. But Seungcheol saw it. He saw the fighting spirit in the boy’s eyes, and his bright will to live not dimming down even though death was looming over him._

_“We could wait. We don’t know what miracle might happen.”_

_Jeonghan looked at Seungcheol again, unsure of his decision. “Are you su—” His voice was cut off by the younger boy suddenly standing up and announcing that he was going to search for help. Seungcheol smiled with the tilt of his head. “I am sure.”_

_As if blessed by the supernatural forces, they heard footsteps rustling through the leaves not far from where the nearly-dead boy was underneath the big tree. When the footsteps got louder and nearer, another boy around his age came into view with a loud gasp due to what he saw in front of his eyes._

_“Oh my world!” The boy rushed towards the other boy, shaking his body gently and propping him up against the tree trunk. “Why are you by yourself in the forest?” He had asked, but without waiting for an answer, he grabbed some things out from the bag made out of cloth he brought with him._

_He brought out a flask of water, and what looked like some kind of dough made into bread, and a small flask of herbal concoction. He guided the flask to the boy’s mouth, tilting it slightly and made sure that the liquid got into the boy’s throat._

_When he handed the boy the bread, he snatched it from his hand weakly and stuffed it all into his mouth, chewing quickly like he hadn’t eaten for days. The other boy snatched some of it back out of concern. “Eat slowly! You might end up choking on it. I won’t take away your food, so eat peacefully.”_

_Blinking slowly at the stranger’s kind gesture, the boy ate at a much slower pace. His stomach that had been empty for nearly four days was starting to fill up again, and he felt his energy rising back up. After the last mouthful of food, he turned to look at the other boy, and he shyly dipped his head in a bow._

_“Thank you, for the water and the food.”_

_The boy returned his words of gratitude with a bright smile. “What’s your name? Mine is Wen Junhui.”_

_A light blush creeped over the smaller boy’s face. Wen Junhui. He’ll be sure to remember the name of the kid that saved him. “Seo Myungho.”_

_“Myungho? Like prosperous?”_

_Myungho shrugged, he had no idea what his name meant. So he grabbed Junhui’s hand and traces two circles connected to each other on Junhui’s palm. “Myungho, that’s Myungho.”_

_Junhui smiled again, and Myungho did too but his smile faltered when he realized that his younger brother was missing. “Have you seen my brother? He’s a little shorter than me and his name is Injun!”_

_Junhui’s smile dropped too. “I didn’t see anyone when I walked through this forest.”_

_Myungho began crying when he realized that his brother was gone and Junhui was quick to pull him into a hug with his tiny arms. He rubbed comforting circles on the younger boy’s back and whispered slowly. “Hush, Myungho. Don’t cry. I’ll be here with you.”_

_From afar, Seungcheol smiled at Jeonghan. “There. A miracle.”_

_Jeonghan crossed his arms on his chest, disagreeing with the concept of cheating death, and Seungcheol seemed to sense it too. “Very well. If Yoon Jeonghan is too unhappy, then you can erase the kid’s memory of his life so that he can start a new life—since he cheated death.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked way too hard on the smut scene please never let my catholic mother find out


End file.
